


At All Costs

by ardentmuse



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aurors, Break Up, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Death Eaters, Infiltration, Love, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Other, Second War with Voldemort, Sex, Torture, True Love, Video Game: Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-07-25 09:26:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 39,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16194728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardentmuse/pseuds/ardentmuse
Summary: Breaking up with Charlie was the hardest thing you ever had to do. But it was what was required for the latest mission Moody had assigned to you, his best auror: joining the death eaters and destroying them from the inside. But Charlie knows you too well and can tell something is amiss. And he isn’t about to let the love of his life go so easily.





	1. Part 1 - The Breakup

Streaks of sunlight illuminated the floorboards as you laid among the mess of covers in the bed of Charlie’s small cabin. The woods around you made daytime deceptive, darkness and cold almost a constant unless the sun broke through the trees at just the right angle. You had no idea how long you had been in bed, naked and wrapped in each other’s arms. Charlie was humming a soft tune beside you, his broad chest proving to be the most excellent of pillows, as he lazily ran his fingers along your scalp, a true sign of his contentment.

Whether it was the pines of the Romanian wilderness or the man holding you that was producing that alluring rich fragrance, you couldn’t be sure. But it had been filling your nostrils all weekend, just the perfect amount of masculine and inviting. You couldn’t imagine having to leave him, the man you had loved with your whole heart since he helped sneak you into the forbidden forest when you were hardly teenagers. He had been your rock all these years. Almost a decade now you had spent by his side, loving him and allowing him to love you in return. Not a single bone in your body was willing to move from your spot right beside him, hopefully to stay forever.

Charlie leaned over to grab the small orb beside the bed. He began tossing it in the air, so similar in size to the snitches he was such an expert at catching back in school. It seemed too natural in his hands, dwarfed by his rugged, calloused palms, though light and nimble against his fingertips.

You laughed as you watched him roll it down his knuckles and bounce it upward, catching it between his thumb and index finger. When he saw your curious eyes, he asked, “Where’d you get this little guy anyway?”

“Moody,” you responded, snuggling further into his side, enjoying the feel of his warm skin against your bare torso.

“Ah,” Charlie coughed, showing off one more tiny trick for your eager eyes.

Even after all this time you still loved those hands and all the wonderful things they could do. You were having a hard time deciding whether you wanted to hold them or let them roam your body.

As your hand came down to rest on his hip bone and felt the flesh of his upper thigh, a part of his body that only your hands had ever that the privilege of exploring, you were reminded of the first time you felt his bare skin against your own.

You could almost feel the warm waters of the prefect bathtub warming your toes as you recalled testing the temperature the night of Charlie’s birthday, 1988. Your robe had clung loosely to your shoulders as Charlie sat lounging against the porcelain, allowing the bubbles to cover all but his head. You had felt his eyes, intent and burning, as he watched you, waiting for the fabric to drop from your skin, to expose your body to his eyes. You had thought such a gaze would make you feel anxious and embarrassed, but it didn’t. You felt alluring, desired, and more than anything, loved.

You had let the cloth fall as you sunk down, leaving you only visible to his inspection for a moment before you too were buried in the bubbles. You had watched Charlie try to suppress a smile, biting at the corner of his lip as you swam to his side. You had expected your boyfriend to respond like a horny teenager, to take you and ravage you at his first convenience. And you remembered thinking you wouldn’t have minded. But that wasn’t your Charlie.

Yes, he was sixteen. Yes, he was stressed and pent up from his new role as Gryffindor quidditch captain. And yes, he desired you. He wouldn’t have asked you to date him, to come home with him for Christmas, to share this bath and to help you sneak into his bed if he didn’t. But Charlie was a different kind of boy, the kind you liked very much.

“Thank you for trusting me,” he had said when you came close enough to hear. He had leaned over as you took your seat beside him, resting his head on your bare shoulder. You felt his thigh brush against yours but nothing more.

“I’d trust you with my life, Charlie Weasley,” you remembered joking as you ran your fingers through his hair, brushing out the knots you found, so common these days from all the flying.

Charlie had sighed, his lips brushing your neck as he did so, “I hope it never comes to that.”

“It already has,” you laughed, thinking about your adventures in the forbidden forest and all the ways he had helped you with the cursed vaults since you first met.

Charlie’s arms had come around to hold your waist. You recalled trying not to gasp at the shock of his hands upon your bare flesh, denoting a new level of intimacy from which you could never come back. Charlie didn’t seem to notice you flinch, only sinking deeper against you side.

“You’re beautiful, by the way,” he had mumbled, alerting you to just how tired and worn out from his week he truly was. But his words had had you smiling. You had snuggled even closer to him, causing the water to slosh over the sides as you allowed your hands to roam his body just a little before you heard him snore, fast asleep against your shoulder.

You were pulled from your thoughts by Charlie passing you the small orb. He grabbed at your waist and nuzzled into your shoulder once he was able. But his gaze was pulled from your neck to the ball now resting against your palm, glowing a vibrant red.

“Y/N, is there something you are forgetting?”

You stared at your remembrall. “In case you forget your duty,” Alastor had said when he gifted you the tiny object. You felt your heart fall into the pit of your stomach.

You tried your best to breath as the orb slowly returned to clear, “I have to go to work.”

Charlie let out a loud, long sigh as he threw his leg over your hips, holding himself to you tightly.

“Just another hour, please, my love?” he begged, “I won’t see you again until Bill’s wedding. At least let us enjoy each other a few more minutes.”

You felt the hollow begin to expand in your stomach, moving with conviction towards your throat, consuming you from the inside.

“I can’t, Charlie. All Aurors are on high alert. You know my work is important right now.”

“I know,” he reassured with a kiss to your collarbone. It seared you, like a brand you wished not to bear, like a lie upon your flesh, proof of love you did not deserve.

The remembrall felt so heavy in your palm, the weight of your choice manifesting itself so acutely. You tapped at his hip bone and Charlie got the message, lifting his leg to allow you to stand.

As you began to pull on your pants, Charlie rolled onto your spot on the bed and spoke one more.

“Be safe, yeah? Promise me you’ll be safe. I don’t know what I would do if any harm came to you.”

“Charlie,” you begged as you buttoned your jeans, “This is war. You know I can’t make such a promise.”

“I know,” he breathed as he moved to sit on the end of the bed, “I just wish it didn’t have to be you putting yourself on the line. You should be safe. You should be here. With me, all the time, in my bed, in my arms,” he pulled you by the waist into his embrace at the last words. “I can’t stand waiting for the owls to let me know you are okay.”

“This is much bigger than us, Charlie,” you sighed into his arms. You tried your hardest to memorize the feel of his embrace; the way his chest hair tickled at your shoulders, how his muscular arms caged you with such a natural ease, the feel of his warm breath against your ear as he sighed, squeezing you even tighter. But you knew the memory would fade. It would have to. It must. You’d die of longing if it didn’t.

“Yes,” he tread, “But what are we fighting for if not each other?”

And there was your opening.

You pulled your head from his chest and looked him square in the eyes.

“Maybe the thousands upon thousands of muggle borns who will die if we fail at this!” you scoffed, crossing your arms and making it very clear that he had offended you.

“I know, but I’m sorry. I’m selfish. I want you safe,” he said, trying again to pull you into his arms. But you stood strong.

“We will never be safe, don’t you understand? Not until all of this is over. Not until this war has ended and he’s defeated for good this time. Regardless of what you might want, I can’t be safe. I thought you understood that,” you breathed as you began pacing the room. It was only when you crossed your arms over your chest that you realized you still hadn’t put on a shirt. 

“I understand just fine, Y/N,” you could hear Charlie’s voice raising despite how much he tried to control it, “I understand more than most. You, the love of my life, constantly throw yourself at danger like you’re some immortal and I am stuck a whole continent away just waiting for whenever you decide to send word that you’re okay. I am acutely aware of just how unsafe you are. But you don’t have to be. Not every battle is yours to fight, love. Please see that.”

You whipped around at those last words, glaring at Charlie.

“Then who? Who, Charles? Who is going to fight for them? For the muggles who don’t even know they are in danger? For all the creatures enslaved? For the muggle borns who are hiding out of fear for what might happen if they even go to the store or school or down the road? For the half-bloods and blood traitors who’ve managed to piss off the dark lord more than once? Blood traitors like your family, like you? Do you expect me to not fight for you?!”

“No, no, no,” Charlie was sitting on the bed shaking his head, watching as you grabbed through the covers to try and find your shirt, “Goodness, no. Of course not. I would never– I would never ask that of you. Merlin, Y/N–”

“And how do you think I feel, huh? Not knowing if I’ll be able to send that owl your way? Thinking I may never come back to you? I need to know you support me in this. I’m doing this for us, for you, so that there might actually be a future for us to share when this all is over!”

“Y/N, I know. I know this is hard for you, too,” Charlie spoke to you but his head was in his hands, his words garbled by the flesh of his palms, “I know you are making a big sacrifice here but can’t you just sit one out? Can’t you stop for a minute? If we win this war and I don’t have you on the other side, we won’t have won at all.”

“Charlie,” you huffed as you tried to get your arms through your sleeves, “I’ve spent my whole life prepping for this war and I will see it to its end. And it may kill me. You have to come to terms with that!”

“I know, love. I know.” Charlie stood, grabbing you by the arms, his fingers encircling your forearms, and bending forward to look you in your eyes. “I just can’t watch anything bad happen to you. I can’t. I love you, Y/N. I love you so much.”

You felt the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes at just how desperate he appeared before you, wanting to see you calm and happy once more. But you couldn’t give him that.

“Then I will make this easier for you, Charlie. You don’t have to watch me anymore. I love you, too, but if you can’t handle this, then maybe you can’t handle me.”

You stepped out of his grasp and threw on your coat. The collar was folded oddly and the sleeves were bunched but you didn’t care to adjust it. You needed to leave before you lost your nerve.

“What? Are you serious?” Charlie asked as he reached once more for your arm but you flicked yourself away.

You grabbed your bag that sat at the end of the bed, dragging it behind you like a physical barrier separating your body from Charlie’s.

“Goodbye, my love,” you choked through your tears as you opened the door to his cabin, stepping out among the fallen leaves that carpeted the small clearing outside Charlie’s home.

As you stormed into the forest, tears clouded your vision to the point of near blindness. You loved that man whose heart you just broke in two. Loved him more than words could say, beyond this war and your job and every other living human being. You felt like such a hypocrite. You’d fight through fire, through storms, through hundreds of death eaters to save that man from harm.

And that’s exactly what you were going to do. A broken heart was better than a body broken beyond repair. At least he’d be alive. At least he’d be safe. Even if it meant you’d never be able to hold him in your arms again. But that was the price you had to pay, the greatest price you could think of to help see this war find a peaceful end.

Somewhere deep in the back of your mind, you found yourself thinking that death seemed pleasant, at least more pleasant than surviving this war and having to watch Charlie love another or, even worse, never open himself up again. After all, apart from Charlie, you wondered if you really had anything to live for at all.

You heard Charlie call your name from the door of the cabin as he began to run after you. But you did not turn. You did not give yourself one last look. You didn’t deserve it.

You stumbled over your feet, your chest so constricted that you didn’t think you’d be able to breathe again. You just needed to get away, a few steps further, a few paces further. But hearing your name, so desperate on his lips once more behind you had you collapsing forward in complete despair.

Just as the crunch of leaves behind you grew unbearably loud, Charlie undoubtedly within arms reach, you found the strength to pull yourself away for good. Like a snap of the fingers, you apparated to the place where the portkey waited and began your long journey back to London.  
image

A few hours later, the journey a complete blur, you walked into the headquarters of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Moody sat at the head of the boardroom table surrounded by Tonks and the rest of the team, all clearly waiting for your arrival to begin the latest meeting.

“Did you do as I asked?” Moody questioned.

Your tears had dried up somewhere in Germany, now your face only showed stern conviction.

But at Moody’s words, you pictured again the look on Charlie’s reddened face as you had stomped out of his cabin, the pleading in his eyes and the tears coating his cheeks. You heard once more in your mind the strained gravel of his voice as he whispered for you to not do the one thing you knew you had to do. And you felt yourself breaking all over again.

“Yes,” you confirmed as you swallowed down your tears. You passed the remembrall back to Moody. A look around the table confirmed that none of your coworkers were aware of your mission, though Tonks seemed to sense that you were upset if the way her hair dulled to a dusty rose as she examined your face was any indication.

Moody regarded you for a moment and then nodded. “Good.”  
image

Back in Romania, the sun was setting. The light that had shone through the window as Charlie held you throughout the morning was long gone. Flashes of moonlight occasionally peeked through the trees, but Charlie was unaware. He had yet to dress. He had yet to eat. He had yet to accomplish any task that did not revolve around longing for you.

His fingers gripped your pillow, digging deep into the feathers as if strength along could manifest your form beside him once more. Breathing was labored still, even though he was fresh out of tears. He felt nothing now but emptiness, the first time in ten years.

Occasionally his eyes would roam to the bedside table, to the two objects he pulled out of the drawer, glaring reminders of how he had failed to support you. He would reach over, allowing the fingers to caress them, so delicate and precious. He studied the objects closely, ones he had planned to give you during this trip but had failed time and time again to find the courage to do so.

On the table sat a small golden arrow, a clock hand, adorned with your face and name in cursive letters along the stem, letters he had fantasized about sitting beside his own on his family clock someday soon, and a ring made of delicate gold metal that he had forged himself in the dragon fire, a promise he planned to make to be by your side forever, no matter what cost.


	2. Part 2 - Battle Over Little Whinging

“Charlie, dear, you must eat something.”

Charlie pulled his head up lazily from the comforters of his childhood bed. It was strange sleeping in such a small space without you beside him or Bill on the other end of the room rambling on about something. Strange and sad but cozy, like putting on his favorite sweater only to discover it no longer fits him. He wrapped the blankets around himself just a little tighter, a shoddy imitation of the warmth of you.

“I’m not hungry, mum,” he mumbled before burying his face once more in the book he had been reading: a biography of Harvey Ridgebit, founder of the Romanian Dragon sanctuary, the first gift you had given him before you were even an item. He didn’t tell you then that it was the best gift he had ever received, not because of how perfect it aligned with his interested, but because of how much it showed you cared. Your love was the real gift, a fleeting crush turned into devotion overnight. Still now, it was his most prized possession.

Molly sighed from the doorway before stepping inside. She shut the door behind her and moved to sit at her son’s feet, though his feet were not where she expected them as he curled himself into the tiniest ball he could, the way a scared child might. And maybe that was what he was, a scared child, Molly thought. After all, he had never spent a day of his adult life without you by his side. She couldn’t imagine enduring any of this without Arthur. The first war had been hard enough.

“How many times have you read that book now?” she asked as she reached up to pat his hip, hoping he’d extend his legs and give his muscles a bit of a rest.

Charlie turned to lie flat as he responded, “Since I’ve been home? Maybe three. Since I’ve owned it? Hundreds, maybe. Who even knows anymore?”

“Sweetheart,” Molly began, “I know this is hard for you—”

Charlie couldn’t even let her finish. “You don’t know, mum. How could you? You and dad started dating when we did and by now you were married and pregnant with Percy.”

Molly didn’t have a response. She just rubbed at her son’s leg. In an effort to reassure him or herself, she was uncertain.

“Godric, I was so stupid! We should have just gotten married when this whole war started.”

“Marriage doesn’t prevent people from leaving, son,” Molly whispered, realizing as the words left her mouth just how unhelpful they were.

“Then what could I have done, mum? Truly? How could I have made Y/N want to stay?” Charlie held the book to his chest as he sat up against the headboard. Molly notices that the flannels of his pajamas were buttoned incorrectly. She had to stop herself from fixing it. Fixing Charlie’s heart was of greater importance.

“Nothing, dear,” Molly said as she scooted closer. Charlie gave a nod and with it Molly climbed up the bed beside him, allowing her son to rest his head on her shoulder the way he used to when she’d read him bedtime stories, Charlie on one side and Bill on the other.

“You can’t make people do what you want them to, no matter how much you love them. Look at Percy.” At the mention of her son, Molly began to cry.

“I’ve known Y/N a long time and I’ve seen the love you two share. But Y/N’s purpose right now is with the Order. Give it space and give it time. If you want to fix this, show support from here. Help see that this war ends swiftly. Help to keep them safe. But also be aware that sometimes love isn’t enough, and it hurts but that’s just the reality of it.”

Charlie hugged his mom around the waist, feeling her love pour through him.

“I thought my love was enough for us. I love them so much, mum. So, so much.”

“I know, son. I know,” Molly whispered as she kissed the mess of red locks atop his head. She felt Charlie’s tears against her blouse, the first he had shed since coming home. He had simply been a ball of numbness and gloom. Tears were progress, proof of a healing process that would take a very long time. But Molly didn’t truly believe he’d be hurting for long. Her son and Y/N were a perfect match if ever she had known one, a consistent source of support and love and joy throughout their home. They would find each other again, she believed. When the dust settled and peace reigned once more, she can just picture Charlie running into the arms of his beloved, smothering them in kisses and apologies, and getting married the following morning.

But for now, she’d need to help Charlie grieve.

“And you understand our path?”

“Yes, boss,” you said with a slight roll of the eyes as Moody led you with swift steps towards the portkey you would be using to meet the rest of the team for tonight’s mission.

“And you understand why—“

“Yes, I understand. I understand the mission as discussed and debriefed twenty times now, Moody! I understand we’re flying together. I understand our route. I understand how I’m luring Voldemort and the Death Eaters to us. I understand what I’m supposed to say when they capture me. And I understand why I’m the only one qualified to do this. Now, can we just spend these last few minutes thinking and not talking?” you ranted at Alastor as you reached the designated portal. You had been so tense these past few days plotting. You felt you could run this mission in your sleep. Your boss was only adding to the tension.

Moody opened up his mouth once more but you interrupted him.

“And yes, before you ask again, my break-up was very much believable. I’m sure the right people have heard of my falling out with the Weasleys by now. Is that everything? ”

Moody sighed, “You are aware I am your superior officer, correct? I could fire you for such insubordination.” He said the last bit with a flick of his eye in your direction. It moved erratically before settling on your face again, as if trying to registry whether you thought him serious.

“And I recall you saying multiple times that this has to be me, so unless you have another sibling of the famous dark-lord sympathizer Jacob under that cloak of yours, I doubt you’ll pull the trigger on that threat, boss man,” you said.

Moody’s face lifted as he spit out a laugh.

He took your arm as he grabbed the portkey and soon you found yourself on the end of a plain town lane in Surrey. Dark was settling in but across the street you could make out the bouncing form of Tonks and unmistakable gait of Fred and George Weasley.

Your heart sank into your stomach at the sight of them, their hair reflecting in the street lamps like dragon fire, looking surprisingly dapper in what you assumed was their work attire. How many people you considered family would you have to face tonight? And how many of them would hate you?

As you crossed the street, Tonks ran and wrapped you in her arms. Her palms rubbed at your shoulders and her cheek found home against your face, a loving gesture that eased your pain.

“I heard. I’m sorry,” she whispered into your ear before squeezing you even tighter. You let your arms come around to hold your friend, your best friend now you though since you don’t have Charlie, and truly absorbed the comfort she was offering. You squeezed a little tighter as you felt the eyes of the twins fall upon you.

“Not too tight,” Tonks said as she pulled back a few inches, “I’m carrying extra cargo these days.”

It took you a moment to process those words. When you did, you met her gaze and saw her trying her hardest to stop the corners of her lips from pulling upward. She just nodded.

You squealed and launched yourself once more into her grasp. Tonks chuckled.

Behind her, you heard George scoff. He whispered something, most of which you couldn’t make out. But you heard the last bit.

“…pretend to be sad for a damn second.”

You felt you heart sink again. Your face dropped. All the joy you felt for Tonks and Remus and the tiny baby inside of her completely evaporated.

You did your best to swallow your pride. “Hi, Fred. George,” you said as you stepped away from Tonks, who seemed surprised at your sudden demeanor until she realized what was happening, and began the trek down the road.

“Hi, Y/N,” Fred said but George smacked him in the stomach. Both boys quickly returned to silent. You wanted to cry all over again as you finished the walk down Privet Drive. This mission didn’t just lose you your boyfriend, your best friend and companion through so much chaos, but the family you had made along the way too.

“How is he?” you asked Bill as you waited for the polyjuice potion to get to you.

Bill looked at you with heavy lids, his hand still holding his wife-to-be’s beside him. You had been nestled between Tonks and Kingsley until now, trying to avoid all the Weasleys, which honestly made up most of the room. Arthur had smiled at you and made some small talk, which was kind but not unexpected. The trio had all been cordial. Hermione had even sought your advice about something she had been researching for which she thought your experience with the cursed vaults might be of great value. But Ron, the twins, and even Bill had seen to keep their distance.

“He’s home,” Bill answered after a survey of the room, “He… needed some time. But he’s Charlie. He’s made of stronger stuff.”

“Why do you even care?” a version of Harry asked from the other side of the room, though you were sure by the tone that it must have been George. Or maybe Ron. Honestly it was impossible to tell. 

You bit your lip and looked at Bill and then back at the fourth (or was it third?) Harry in the room. 

“Because I love him,” you whispered despite yourself. A flick of eyes to Bill let you know he had heard you. He smiled, soft and reassuring. You weren’t sure if he understood fully, but it was clear he wasn’t judging.

Bill bent over and said, “You’ll always be family, Y/N. Relationships are complicated. But we all love you, even George.”

You smiled, though it didn’t meet your eyes. Words were wind when it came to these sort of things. And besides, you would probably never see any of them again. You couldn’t imagine them viewing you as family after you were about to do.

You felt a tap on your shoulder as Hermione passed you the bottle of potion. You took a large swig. Being Harry seemed better than being you at the moment.

“To the skies on my cue,” Moody called to the group assembled in the backyard.

You felt nerves begin to settle into your stomach at his words, the first since you began planning this mission in earnest.

“Into the belly of the beast,” you thought with a loud sigh. You grabbed onto Moody’s coat. You felt his eye look at you through the back of his skull and you did your best to smile at it.

“You’re the linchpin in all of this, Y/N. Bring this home for us, okay?” he said so only you could hear. You nodded and gripped him a little tighter, going over the plan again in your mind.

Moody stared out at the night for some time, what felt like minutes, before letting out the hoot that told everyone to kick off. You were zooming in the air almost immediately. Speed was off the essence. You recalled all those long flights Charlie used to take you on late at night back at Hogwarts. You knew they were just an excuse to cling a little tighter to him, to nestle against his back, and to eventually find a new, quiet, secluded place at enjoy each other. You remembered the first time you visited the sanctuary and the flight he took you on to see the dragons up close that nearly got your burned to bits. But that was your Charlie: adventurous, enthusiastic and ever the romantic. You felt the ache you couldn’t shake more acutely at the work “your.” He couldn’t be yours now. It was too dangerous.

Before you could finish your thoughts, you were descended upon by a cloud of black hoods, swooping and screeching like a hoard of bats, somehow bringing with them a cold breeze that had you clinging even tighter to your wand. Flashes of red and white shot through the sky in all directions, you and Moody receiving the blunt of it as he swooped upward to hover over the group for a better sight line. You heard the unmistakable laughter of a certain Black sister as she sped after her niece a few brooms in front of you.

Twelve or so brooms surrounded you, tossing curses with more intention than was normal. The Potters had confused them and your intel had been right. The death eaters were only attacking the obvious Order members, at least with as much aim as they could. After a series of uncoordinated attacks and even more increased speed as the group darted east, attentions turned to you and Moody, the obvious choice for the real Potter.

Three hooded men shot up from below you, three streams of red light coming at your heels. Moody expertly diverted as you flicked your wand with a stunning spell. You watched as one of the brooms fell from the sky through the clouds below.

The crowd of Order members was moving together, getting closer to the point where the group had decided to part ways towards their various portkeys. You knew you needed to do more damage to the attacking forces if separating was going to be a viable option without serious loss of life. You tabbed on Moody’s shoulder and he slowed, falling a few seconds behind the mass of the group just as you had coordinated.

Suddenly, You-know-who appeared among the death eaters, hovering high above your broom like a hawk stalking its prey.

You had seen him a few times, mostly in the minds of others during interrogations, but seeing him in person, flying dangerously close to your form, was more frightening than you expected. His eyes scanned the group and landed swiftly upon your broom, to the most experience Auror with the most coordinated of the Harrys on brooms. You had taken the extra step of trying to move on the broom as Harry would. Having watched a skilled seeker most of your life in Charlie helped you understand just how fluid ones movements while flying needed to be.

A death eater down, a stun tossed over your head, shields casts. The entire thing was chaos. You watched one shot of green come your way, nearly missing Arthur to your left.

And then the separation point. You and Moody turned swiftly north with Bill and Fleur close behind. And just like you expected, Voldemort followed.

You felt him descending upon you more than you saw it. Another curse came at your head, but you deflected. Everything was so close, too close for your liking, but this was what had to be done.

Moody swerved as Voldemort shot another killing curse at his head.  
“Ready?” he asked over the shoulder as he positioned his arms far out in front of him.

You swallowed. “Ready.”

Another curse came your way and Moody took an intentionally fast swerve. You loosened your legs, let go of his cloak, and off you fell into the darkened sky.

Air left your lungs as you began to free fall, your back to the ground and your wand tight in hand. You looked up as the battle commenced above you. Fleur tried to pull Bill to come to your aid but they had to keep flying, to death eaters hot on their tail. Voldemort turned his attention immediately to your descending form, commanding several followers to dive after you. And a spell that must have been cased right before you dropped hit Moody square in the face, a flash of green, and soon he was falling too. That was not the plan. Death was not meant to find either of you but you had no breath to scream or cry for the loss of your mentor.

You began to feel lightheaded as the air grew thicker around you. And soon everything was black.

Charlie was sitting beside George on the couch of the Burrow when Bill and Fleur arrived, the second to last of the pairs. Charlie was already anxious for your arrival, but his nerves were getting worse with each passing minute. He didn’t know all the details of the plan, but he did know you were with Mad-Eye and together you were rather unstoppable. His brain was going haywire trying to figure out what might be holding you up.

He looked at his brother Bill, but he was avoiding his gaze. Fleur was clearly crying. Fleur mumbled something he couldn’t make out but his mother cover her mouth in shock. Immediately, he knew something wasn’t right.

Charlie shot up from his seat and marched into the kitchen.

“Where’s Y/N?” he demanded. His mother reached over and held his hand as she cried. Charlie squeezed in return, knowing what it meant, but refusing to settle for anything else than words.

“I’m so sorry, Charlie,” Fleur said as she cast her gaze to the floor.

Charlie only looked at Bill, though, his teeth bare. “Tell me what happened.”

Bill’s face was soft, heartbroken, as he let out the few words he could, “They fell. You-Know-Who targeted them specifically. Moody was hit with a killing curse and Y/N fell somewhere over London.”

Charlie heard the words, heard the pain, but only felt anger.

“And you just let it happen?”

“We wanted to stop,” Fleur said as Bill responded at the same time, “I had to protect my spouse!”

“And what about mine?” Charlie screamed at his brother, “How many times has Y/N protected you? You just let them fall and kept on going because the only thing that matters to you is your life and your partner! Y/N is family, Bill!”

“Charlie,” Molly said, trying to calm him down, but she too was losing her cool.

“There was nothing we could do!” Fleur cried, but Charlie simply turned and walked into the living room, his breathing growing more labored with each step.

A look between Bill and Arthur forced him to intervene.

“Son,” Arthur began as he placed a hand on Charlie’s shoulder Charlie immediately flinched but allowed his father’s hand to stay with the second attempt, “We had orders not to intervene. Please don’t blame your brother. I’m so sorry. ”

Charlie took a seat on the chair beside George and buried his head in his hands. He knew his anger was misplaced and quickly it was cooling. But honestly, anger was better than the emptiness he knew was coming, the pain and sadness and complete despair. You were his soulmate, the source of so many of his happier emotions. And even with the break-up, it had never felt real. Eight and a half years together couldn’t just disappear overnight. He had hoped when this bloody war ended that you might find each other again. But now, nothing. Now that ring would sit in a drawer forever. That hand would never find home on the family clock. Those vows he wanted to say to you would stay in his head and in his heart, never to be made air.

But the emptiness never came. He searched his heart, searched the space around him, the realms beyond with his mind, but no emptiness could be found.

Charlie pulled his head up from his hands, a few tears pricking at his eyes, to meet his father’s gaze.

“No,” Charlie said with confidence, pushing his hair off his forehead. He straightened his back as he looked around the room at all the faces waiting for him to break down. “Y/N isn’t gone. I’d feel it. I’d know, dad. I don’t know how but my love is out there. I promise you. I feel it in my bones. And I’m going to find them.”

Charlie stood and rubbed at his face once more, clearing off all the tears.

“And which of you is going to help me?”


	3. Part 3 - Malfoy Manor

As consciousness slowly returned to you, all you registered was darkness: dark in the shadows of the statues that filled each alcove of the great hall, dark in the sturdy polished wood of the grand table, dark of the cloaks of the men and women who sat, straight-backed and intense, glaring down upon you, and the dark pit in your stomach as you processed the face of the man in the head seat, grinning as he took in your now-open eyes.

You shot upright as the snake-like man laughed heartily at your distress, his teeth bare like a hound ready to pounce. Your jolt pulled hard upon the straps that tied your arms to your chair, cutting deeply into your flesh and burning almost instantly. You went to scream to only realize you couldn’t.

“Nice of you to join our little celebration, Y/L/N,” Voldemort said with a chuckle. No one joined in.

He stood and glided towards you, clearly walking was below him now. Every eye was intent upon him as he leered over your immobilized form. Once he was behind you, his hands came down to hold your shoulders, his long digits ghosting upon your neck, making you squirm. He stomped his foot in disgust and you got the message. You stiffened your neck and allowed him to control you, despite every impulse in your body to turn and spit in his face.

“If your goal was to protect Potter, Y/N, then it seems you have succeeded. Imagine my ire upon that potion of yours wearing off. Mad-eye was always a trickster, wasn’t he?”

Voldemort squeezed harshly at your shoulder before turning to take a round of the table. Bellatrix let out a right giggle as you hissed in pain.

You took a moment to assess the faces around the room. The Yaxleys, the Carrows, the Murks, the Malfoys, the Lestranges. No surprises. Everything your intel had told you about the inner circle seemed to be accurate, though there were a few empty chairs that you suspected would have been filled before the events of today’s– or was it yesterday’s– battle.

“My friends,” Voldemort called as he returned to sitting, “Tell me. What we should do with this one, the notorious Hogwarts curse-breaker, the famous auror, the protege of the formidable Patricia Rackpick, favorite of the legendary Alastor ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody, and friend of Harry Potter?”

He said each name with such disdain that you felt a deep-seeded doubt about your mission. Maybe he wouldn’t accept you. Maybe Jacob and the rumors, your skills and knowledge, wouldn’t be enough.

“Not to mention blood-traitor and Weasley-fucker,” Ismelda spat under her breath from her seat beside her parents. You wiped your head around to see the smirk on her face, clearly enjoying your suffering more for having known you.

“Ah, yes, I almost forgot about your pest of a boyfriend and the entire lot of vermin you call relatives. ”

“Ex,” you tried to whisper. Your lips moved but no sound came out. 

“Ah, that is enough to get you talking, dear?” he cooed in your direction. “Shall we hear what the enemy has to say, my friends?” And with a gesture to Amycus Carrow, who waved his wand in your direction, you felt a rush of wind fill your trachea, forcing your entire body forward. The straps around your body caught you before you went face first into the table. Ismelda suppressed a laugh.

“Now what words of wisdom did you feel were so crucial to share with us?” Voldemort said. He folded his hands in front of him on the table, like some smug executive waiting for a presentation he has no interest in. You knew now you had to choose your words very closely. A single phrase could be the difference between life and death.

“Ex,” you whispered with air this time. You watched Voldemort’s forehead wrinkle in confusion and so you continued. “Ex-boyfriend.”

“Ah!” he screamed with a slam of his fist on the table, “A little falling out with the in-laws? There might be hope for you yet, Y/N.” He raised his arms above his, like a preacher upon the pulpit.

“So I ask again, my friends, what shall we do with this one? Shall we see what information we can obtain from the enemy? Should we bring about a simple end to this troublesome nuisance? Or should we have some fun?”

Immediately upon the finish of his speech, the crowd began responding in a cacophony of words, mostly calls for your head, requests to kill the auror scum themselves, and the loudest of which was Bellatrix calling for your torture.

“Lucius,” Voldemort called, silencing the rest of the voices in the room, “What say you? This is your home after all. Who am I to deny our guest your hospitality.”

Lucius looked to his left to make eye contact with his wife before meeting your gaze. You knew Lucius from your time at the Ministry, mostly in passing, and never with great fondness, but seeing him now, so small and helpless in the eyes of his lord was terrifying. You did your best to settle your stomach. This was your job, your mission, and you would see it to its end, even upon death.

Without breaking eye contact with you, Lucius said, his voice shaking and harsh, “A swift death, my lord. I see no use for such low lives, not with our upcoming plans already solidified.” You felt sweat begin to drip down your back at his words.

“Wrong!” Voldemort bellowed with another slam of his fist on the table. He swiftly stood and glided towards the family of blonds, settling down beside the son, Draco you recalled, whose face was just as gaunt and terrified as his father’s.

“You seem to have forgotten your history, dear Lucius. You of anyone should know the power of a good seed gone astray,” he hissed as he patted the crown of Draco’s head. “Why, this is not just an auror, not just some noble warrior for the causes of the enemy. No, this is a powerful pureblood sitting before us, relative of the late Jacob L/N, a servant of the cause who sacrificed his life to see my form returned to me. Y/N here helped break curses, yes, but also caused them, created the chaos needed for me to come again. My late servant Quirinus often praised the L/Ns for all the did for us, for their brilliance, and their insight. We owe Y/N here a great deal of gratitude. Without them, none of this would be possible.”

By this point, Voldemort had reached his place behind your chair again, to look out upon his crowd of adoring followers, all of whom, sans the Malfoys, were completely enraptured by his retelling of events. And honestly, as frightened as you were of this entire exchange, you had to suppress a smile at the mention of your brother. The rumors had indeed filled Voldemort’s head with a false notion of your journey. Yes, your seventh year, you did open the final vault and discover your brother, frozen in time while battling with dark forces. And yes, your brother did die as a result of what he experienced within. And yes, your efforts to save him did release a kind of magic that allowed Professor Quirrell to serve as a carrier for Voldemort’s remaining spirit, but Jacob wasn’t trying to open the vault to release its terror. He was trying to close it, to lock it away for good knowing it might help Voldemort rise again. But each side of the divide took the story as they did and praised him a hero. The boy who helped return the dark lord to power or the boy who gave his life to make sure no one else might have to do the same.

“And so I say, we give Y/N here a choice. Serve a new master, honor your brother’s legacy and fight beside us. Or be tortured for every detail of every single plot you have knowledge of until your blood coats this floor in a sea of red so deep you drown in it. Which do you choose, my dear?” Voldemort howls. He presses his wand harshly against your throat. He nods to Carrow who tightens your straps, cutting into your arms until blood begins to drip down your wrists.

“To serve you,” you breath through the pain. Only after a moment, do you remember to add, “My lord.”

Voldemort laughs. “Trick question, Y/N. It will be both.”

You only had a moment to try and tighten your mind, to close down the parts of your brain you knew you needed to keep hidden, locking away every piece of your life with Charlie, the love you still had for him and his family, before Voldemort raised his want towards your head. Moody had worked with you to help plant false images of your time in the vaults and a few false memory charms had been cast around details of Order missions you knew, though you couldn’t be sure what was real and what wasn’t anymore. 

You steeled yourself as best you could as you heard the cruel words your training had prepared you to endure.

“Crucio!”

“This isn’t right!” Charlie calls as he grabs every random item off of Moody’s kitchen counter. Every trinkle, every bottle of liquid, every assorted piece of silverware was touched and laid out for Bill’s inspection.

“Where is it?” Charlie groaned in frustration as he moved on to the back patio. His eyes were puffy and red from lack of sleep, not shed tears. He begged his brother to help him search for clues and even though Bill had advised that their time might be better used in mourning, he was still here, still helping.

Bill sighed as he began to replace every item Charlie upheaved from the dead man’s home, “It is right, Charlie. Portkeys expire. Fleur and I missed ours completely. You aren’t going to find it now.”

“I’m not going to find it because there never was one,” Charlie insisted as he began to pick through a pile of wood. “I had Tonks check with her contacts at the Ministry records office. There is no record of Moody’s portkey. Think about it, Bill,” Charlie said as he knelt in the dirt, a face of chaos and mania if Bill had ever seen one. “Why have portkeys made for all of you but not himself?”

“Maybe,” Bill said as he stepped forward to help his brother out of the dirt. Charlie followed, allowing Bill to bring him to sit on the wooden bench that overlooked Moody’s small garden. “Moody was just a powerful wizard, aware that You-Know-Who would target him first and unsure of whether or not he’d make it to his house, so he decided he’d just create a portkey wherever he and Y/N landed. It is difficult magic, but nothing out of his capabilities. You have to think rationally here, Charlie.”

“No,” Charlie said with a shake of the head, “You’re the one not being rational, brother! If Moody knew You-Know-Who would target him, then he knew there was a chance my love would make it here without him. Why not set Y/N up for safety?”

Charlie waited for Bill to say something, but no words came.

“Because he never planned for Y/N to get here. They were supposed to fail. Y/N kept insisting death was on the table this mission during our fight. Maybe this was already planned. Maybe we needed to believe they died for the mission to be successful.”

“Charlie,” Bill urged as he fiddled with his earring, a nervous habit he had picked up since the war began, “We’ve been everywhere. We’ve checked everything. The Order knows nothing. We can’t prove anything. What else do you want us to do?”

Charlie stood and walked around the garden, trying to clear his head. He ran his fingers through his hair a few times before resting his palms on his thighs and leaning forward to breath more easily. Charlie felt the pockets of his slacks stretch over the muscles of his legs as he bent. He tried his best not to cry as he recalled the feel of your hands along his thighs whenever you’d rest your head in his lap as you studied or read, the feel of you soft thighs pressing against his own as he made slow, thoughtful love to you on cold nights under the stars, or the slightly painful pressure in his pocket the entire last weekend you were together of the golden ring and the–

“The clock hand.”

“What?” Bill called from his place still on the bench.

“The clock hand,” Charlie repeated, “We need to get home.”

Hours upon hours you spent with every detail of your mind being extracted. You sat now on a cold stone floor, somewhere underneath the manor, barely conscious but still breathing. You had managed to give up just the information you knew you had, enough to prove your value, to show that you weren’t lying, at least not about everything, and to demonstrate the level of moral flexibility needed to stay alive a little longer.

You hoped sleep would find you quickly because the pain even now was unbearable. Cuts littered you body like a bread loaf scored for baking. Your skull ached with dehydration and your neck could hardly support your head anymore. More than anything, your forearm burned with the newly brandished symbol of your master, a ghastly large dark mark upon your skin. “A reminder of the one who spared you,” Voldemort had said, pushing upon it to increase the burn, a call to him almost as strong as your call to return one day to the man you loved, if he’d have you.

Voldemort had filled your brain and body with so many falsehoods, promises of greatness and power and justice for your brother, some of which were tempting. But Charlie, beautiful, brave, perfect Charlie, was the only motivation you needed to stay strong. Together you had endued so much. You could endure just a little bit more to see him safe.

As your flesh continued to sear, the smell so unpleasant you had already vomited twice, you began to count his freckles in your mind like you used to do in person when you needed sleep to find you.

And as the dark mark began to fade, like a tattoo upon your skin, find you it did.

“Dad, Dad!” Charlie called as he busted through the kitchen door of the Burrow, followed by Bill.

Molly sat at the kitchen table, working on the floral arrangements for the wedding. Molly rubbed her nose to hide her tears. As one son was bringing a new daughter into the family, she grieved in silence for the child that was very much her own, if not in name, although she knew to Charlie, the name was only a formality. You had been his spouse, his lifelong partner and reason for being. And so really she mourned two-fold: for you, and for her son who she knew would choose to never love another so long as he live.

Upon her son’s enthusiastic entry, Molly looked to Bill, who seemed to be equally confused. Charlie had been in denial, yes, but joy seemed just a step too far.

“Dad,” he called again, making circles in the living room.

“What?” Arthur said from the stairs as he made his way down.

“The hand I had you make for the clock, you already enchanted it, right?”

“Why, yes,” Arthur said with an adjustment of his glasses, still processing what was happening.

“And, mum,” Charlie called as he ran into the kitchen, “What happens to the hand when someone dies? Where does it point?”

Molly picked up the family clock as it rested on the table beside her; nine hands all pointing to “Mortal Danger.”

“It doesn’t,” she whispered, running a finger over Arthur’s picture as it sat on top of a slew of arrows, “It just spins.”

Charlie nodded and ran up the stairs leaving everyone stunned and confused. Arthur too looked to Bill who only shrugged his shoulders, each person only having one piece of the puzzle until Charlie returned with the delicate golden hand with your name and picture within his palm.

“May I?” he said to his mum, who swiftly handed him the clock. Molly hovered over him, watching closely as he loosened the center bolt to slide on your hand. The photograph was small but she could still make out your animated movements. You smiled up at them, your eyes crinkling slight as your grin grew wider. As if you could see, when Charlie finally set you in properly and examined the photo, you winked before opening your mouth in what Molly knew to be your laugh.

“Hey, there, beautiful,” Charlie said as he kissed his index and middle finger before pressing it to your image. The exchange broke Molly’s heart.

“Arthur, when did you–” Molly began but Charlie decided to answer the question as he secured the bolts once more.

“I was planning to propose– made the ring myself and everything – two weeks ago, but… there.”

As Charlie set the clock back down, Molly, Arthur and their two oldest all crowded around the small yellow face, watching as the hand spun once to the left, slowed and then continued again to the right, not exactly spinning mindlessly, but not stopping either. No one breathed as upon the forth rotation it slowed, passing lazily by “Prison” and “Dentist,” appearing as if it might find rest beside its mate.

But just as the hand appeared to stop upon Charlie’s, it picked up once more, launching itself at speed until it stopped again with a jolt.

No one moved. No one said a single word for nearly a minute as if any air might send it in motion again. But locked in place it stayed, all on its own, the image in the photo smiling up at the family as the accompanying arrow sat alone aiming at the word Charlie’s heart had longed to see: “Work.”


	4. Part 4 - A Weasley Wedding

“What do we do?” Molly asked her husband and sons as they surrounded the family clock containing a tenth hand belong to a Weasley in everything but name.

“We can’t ‘do’ anything,” Charlie responded, though his eyes never left the image at the end of the long arrow, a gold-framed portrait of you, one that had yet to stop smiling up at him, so filled with love that he believed your image sentient, completely aware that it was him looking into your eyes and not a complete stranger.

His hands continued to trace the edge of the metal. A thought entered his mind that the frame was fitting, as only gold was precious enough to surround your person and encompass your form for his eyes.

When his head hit the pillow at night to dream, that was how he saw you, a divine being haloed in gold, shrouding you in holy light. Part of him thought maybe he was lifting you up in his mind because you were gone, but he quickly squashed that idea. He had these dreams, saw these images on nights alone in Romania, in times where he craved your presence so acutely he considered mounting his broom and flying halfway across the globe just for fifteen minutes in your bed and a kiss upon his cheek. He yearned for you like a drug somedays and like water others, and if he was honest with himself somedays he would get so wrapped up in his work that he wouldn’t think of you at all until his eyes closed once more in exhaustion. Then his brain conjured images of catching you as you fell from your broom in the family groves, watching your face light up as you opened a gift from him on Christmas morning, and warping you in his blankets as you laid your head to rest upon his shoulder. But every time, when his mind formed the image of you, warmth penetrated his bones, bubbles filled his stomach, and an aura of gold clouded his mind. Pure, pure love. Love that grew each day. And love that would continue to grow each day still, whether you were alive or not to receive it.

And for the first time since all of this began, he felt a tear run down his cheek and land upon the first few letters of your name. For the first time in quite a long time, he felt some joy.

Molly rubbed at her son’s back with soft, rhythmic circles like the ones she used to do to ease his quidditch injuries in youth.

“I’m sorry, Charlie.”

“Don’t be, mum,” Charlie said as he turned to look at her, making clear the smile that was somehow, despite everything, plastered on his face, “Now I know. Whatever Y/N is up, it’s for us and for the Order. Y/N wants an end to this war more than anyone. Whatever this sacrifice is, I’m proud.”

Bill was stunned, “All this and you aren’t even going to send an owl? Have Kingsley investigate? Go searching?”

“No,” Charlie confirmed as he returned his eyes to you just in time to see the small wink that had you laughing. “We always had a no owls on missions policy. Y/N sends to me first, not the other way around. Too much can be traced. And if Kingsley doesn’t know, there is a reason. We’ve got to keep any details away from the ministry. We watch the clock. We pretend we know nothing. And we let Y/N do what they do best.”

Bill nodded as he processed Charlie’s words, seeing the logic within, something his brother often disregarded in favor of selecting the first practical, and usually dangerous, option that came to mind. Noticing the change too, Molly locked eyes with Bill and exchanged smiles. If there was one thing they always liked about you, it was that you made Charlie better.

“Y/N’s a tough one,” Arthur threw in for support.

“The toughest,” Bill confirmed. “ We’ll take your lead on this one, brother. You know this protocol better than we do.”

Charlie laughed, “That’s what we fought about, you know? This stupid protocol.” Charlie let out another chuckle. this one from deep in his chest more like a roar then any human sound, revealing the true lion within. “And now it’s probably going to save all our lives. Merlin, gorgeous, you’re always right aren’t you?” He directed the last question at your picture as he ran his finger once more along the length before finally letting go.

With the decision made, the family parted to continue about their work prepping for tomorrow’s celebration. Molly reached down to take the clock in hand, her constant companion through this war.

“And mum you’ll—“ Charlie began but Molly didn’t need him to finish before she confirmed, “I’ll watch for all my children.”

Arthur lingered a little longer than the rest, grabbing Charlie by the shoulder to gain his attention.

“I’m proud of you,” he said as he offered a pat, “You’ll make a good husband someday, son. Take it from me; trust is key. And I know you’ve both got that in spades.”

image  
A single shaft of light came in through a small crack in the foundation of the dungeon in which they held you captive, enough to allow you to see how the horrendous mark upon your skin was healing, but just barely. The brand was chard on the edges. The skin was dead, as dead as the evil which produced it, and you still felt the burning deep under the surface, so deep that you thought that when you died and your flesh rotted away, the brand would still exist upon your bones.

You did your best to explore the baron room, crawling as you felt against the walls, but you only got a few feet before a voice, raspy and worn, called out to you.

“You won’t find anything, my friend,” the voice said before falling into a fit of coughing, “Merlin knows I’ve tried.”

You vaguely remembered the voice but couldn’t place it. You felt above your head to try and see how high the ceiling went and upon realizing you could stand, just barely, you walked with labored movements towards the source of the sound.

Once you were within reach, the man grabbed for your hand and upon feeling it recited with frightening accuracy, “11-inch, hornbeam wood with dragon heartstring core, sister wand to my very own. I always knew there were great things in store for you, Y/N L/N. I simply wish it didn’t have to be this.”

“Mr. Ollivander?” you said as your heart filled with fear and compassion for the man who had only ever shown you kindness, “Goodness, what have they done to you?”

He didn’t respond, but instead reached over beside him. You head a small metal tinge before feeling a rush of water upon your wound. It burned, worse than you expected, but after a rinse or two, you found relief.

You hadn’t a clue how much time had passed. Without light, it was near impossible to tell. But you did get a rather solid run-down from Ollivander about the proceedings among the enemy since the fall of Albus Dumbledore. You were grateful to have a fellow prisoner, even if you were more of a “guest” serving out a necessary punishment.

A swing of the door and a loud clang against the stone wall woke you from an agitated slumber. The light, so bright and painful against your eyes, made it hard to see who stood before you, but the voice was unmistakable.

“Up, curse-breaker,” Ismelda said as she threw a dark hooded robe overtop your body.

“Where are we going?” you managed to ask as you unburied yourself from dark garment.

“Our lord has a loyalty test in mind.”

Her laughter fills the void of the chamber as you clamor to your feet and rush out the door.

image  
The music of the band had the reception tent filled with joy and activity. The pomp of the evening was lost on no one, as the events of the previous two months had left little to celebrate.

Bill held Fleur in his arms just a few yards in front of Charlie in the middle of the dance floor. The couple was laughing with each spin, completely engrossed in each other. And while sure, Charlie was happy for them, he couldn’t help but feel something was wrong. As best man, he had worn an suit to Fleur’s specifications but Charlie had intentionally selected a pocket square that would have matched your outfit perfectly and had planned to do his hair the way you liked, pulled back from his face and flowing behind his ears just enough for you to be able to run your hands through it as you sat beside him or astride him as you talked. But his mother had chopped it off before he could properly protest.

He wanted you here, wanted to see how you reacted to such a ceremony so you could begin planning your own. What parts would you like to keep? What parts did you wish to avoid at all costs when you said your own vows to each other? He wanted to sit in this chair with you right beside him, running his finger over the ring that should now be sitting upon your hand, as you commented on each detail: “No white tablecloths; too easily dirty,” or, “This food is good but I think we can do better,” or, “It isn’t too cold out tonight so maybe we aim for August too?” or even the occasional, “I can’t wait to marry you.”

Just as he turned down yet another cousin offering him a dance, the entire party was interrupted by a misty orb shooting through the tent into the center of the dance floor, like a meteor set on a path of destruction. Charlie stood in shock and pulled out his wand. Party guests scatter in all directions as the lynx lets out a low growl, making itself known. Harry sees out of the corner of his eye Harry and Ron run forward, accompanied by his parents and others who were otherwise entertained, the entire Order lined the dance floor protecting the rest of attendees from whatever harm such an object might contain.

The orb unraveled into the form of a lynx. It circled the tent once before settling at the center of the crowd. From its form came the voice of Kingsley, whispered and urgent.

“The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.”

And as if on queue, black masses began appearing on the outskirts of the tents and rushing inward to search the mass for Harry Potter. Cloaked figures whizzed through the crowd like birds darting for fish just under the surface of the water, talons bear and dangerous.

On instinct, Charlie flipped the table and encouraged those few family members near his to apparate away. The goal as always among the Order was to protect Harry first and his family second, but honestly it was all the same at this point. Faceless cloaked figures shot curses in aimless directions, filling the tent with light and chaos. Cloth rained down like Christmas mist, sparks caught upon the edges of napkins, and dishes clanked upon the floor as each table was unturned and each settling tossed aside in the search for Potter.

Charlie had managed to stun a few assailants from his advantageous spot near the center of the mass but quickly it became apparent to him that a united front was a much better option. The capture of a single Order member could be devastating. Charlie stood and began to run towards the house, towards the mass of bodies back to back that he believed to be his twin brothers.

But before he could move even a few steps, he came face to face with an unmasked Carrow whose teeth were bare in amusement as he made to charge.

Just as Charlie was about to disarm him, a table flew into the air separating the two men. Carrow ran face first into the white-washed wood, falling to the ground for long enough for Charlie to get away.

But Charlie didn’t move. He knew that trick, knew it too well from all the times he and Bill used to levitate the tables and use them for battles out in the garden.

Charlie turned himself towards the hooded figure, face masked and otherwise indistinguishable from the rest of the attacking forces. He immediately shot a jinx in the direction of the body but the Death Eater didn’t counter, but instead casted a levitation charm on themselves, rising quickly into the air and avoiding his jinx completely.

And then he knew. He knew immediately as you hovered in the air before him that it was you.

image  
As you floated, your head hitting the roof of the tent, you stared down at Charlie who couldn’t move, the shock and knowledge reading all over his face.

You had prayed he would remember that day in the forest all those years ago, before you even began dating, when you had levitated yourself to search for the centaur that he had somehow managed to befriend. Charlie had offered to catch you that night. He’d seemed so eager to help you then, and for the first time since you had started your friendship, you realized the butterflies you felt in your stomach upon seeing him might be mutual. He had uttered the counter-charm and down you floated, as gentle as feather, into his embrace. And he held you for just a second too long, and then you knew.

You waited a moment to see how he’d respond. The chaos around made it so no one was really paying much attention to you. And as you had just “accidentally” knocked out your handler, you had a moment to think.

Charlie lifted his hand, whispered something and down you floated, just like that night a decade ago. Charlie ran forward, ready to catch you his arms, looking so desperate to feel you again that it hurt your heart to see. And Godric did you want to feel him, too.

When you had first laid eyes on him upon your arrival, he seemed strong and confident, not the saddened wreck you expected. Maybe he never really loved you as you had thought, your brain said. But now seeing this, you knew the truth; Charlie had figured it out. He had nothing to mourn. But having you within arms reach seemed another level of torture.

But before he could reach you, you could see out of the corner of your eye Ismelda charging, accompanied by Bellatrix, as they chased Tonks back into the tent, all three blasting curses as quickly and deftly as they could.

You only took a second to assess the situation, to consider what was best, for you and for Charlie. And a step before he would have held you again, you whispered so only he could hear, “Sorry, my love,” before blasting him with a stun that sent him flying across the tent. You watched as he connected hard with a post before slumping against the dirt, unconscious but far out of harm’s way.

image  
A couple of hard slaps to the face helped bring Charlie back to the waking world. As he blinked his eyes open, he realized he was in a bed, but not his own. And everything, literally everything was spinning.

“There he is!” George cheered as Charlie squinted his eyes, “I told ya, mum, something violence is the answer.”

“Oh, enough,” Molly chided as she pulled her boys aside to set herself down beside her injured son. She placed an ice pack upon the crown of his head. Only then did Charlie register the throbbing in his skull.

“Do you remember what happened?” Fred asked as he took a seat on the arm of the sofa next to Charlie’s feet.

George pipped in too, “Other than getting blasted hard by some death eater.”

“Not some death eater,” Charlie corrected, “Y/N.”

The faces in the room looked around a few times, trying to understand if they heard him right. But Charlie didn’t bother elaborating. The less who knew what was going on, the better. And he didn’t even have a chance before Aunt Muriel entered with a tray of tea and snacks and kisses upon the forehead for everyone.

A few days of recovery had Charlie feeling like new. He would have to get back to Romania soon on orders of Kingsley to recruit more foreign witches and wizards to the cause. And being hauled up in a tiny house somewhere in the Cotswolds was not helping anyone.

Just as he had finished packing his bags, finalizing his route through Europe to throw anyone off his trail, and sent the owls necessary to assure his safe journey, he heard a knock on the guest room door.

His mother stood before him, clock held tight to her chest, and a few tears littering her cheeks and apron.

“Before you go, I think you should see this,” she said as she handed him the clock.

It looked the same as it always did, except now not nine but ten hands all pointed in the same direction towards “Mortal Danger.”


	5. Part 5 - To Hogwarts

“A toast!” Voldemort called from the head of the table at Malfoy Manor. The forces were three-chairs deep tonight, the numbers having grown with the take-over of the Ministry, but also with the eagerness of those on the outskirts to fill the seats of the close advisors lost in the previous two battles.

“To rightful control of the Ministry of Magic!” he said with a raise of his glass, “And Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!”

Voldemort took a sip of his beverage. You watched from your seat next to Snape as a long tongue escaped between Voldemort’s lips, licking at the liquid that ran down his chin. The sight was revolting and as you tried your best not to wince, you felt Snape’s eyes upon you.

Snape. You hate the man. Dumbledore trusted him and then to do what he did was the lowest thing you could think of. But you also needed him. He was the only person among this crowd who had seen your skills at Hogwarts, who knew truly what value you brought to the table beyond the rumors, the Skeeter articles, and the battle victories. He knew your potential and had even a few times encouraged you to cultivate it in indirect and albeit brutish ways. As much as you hated to admit it, he was an ally here. A traitorous, self-serving, useful ally.

You turned to meet his gaze as you took your sip in time with the crowd. His eyes narrowed upon you, like a robot scanning your features for signs of treachery. After a moment, he too swallowed the wine before him in a single gulp before turning once more to the captivating roar of his master.

“We have instilled our puppets within the Ministry, along with our own men, to assure an orderly transition. Yaxley has overseen those efforts and for such will be rewarded,” Voldemort nodded his head towards the right length of the table where Yaxley sat among the other ministry employees, each with shit-eating grins upon their faces, all except the Malfoys.

“And Severus,” Voldemort continued with a turn of his head towards your side of the table, “will oversee our efforts at the castle with the assistance of the Carrows.”

Snape let out a long breath beside you before picking up his voice.

“My lord, might I make an additional request?”

Voldemort took a moment as Nagini slithered up beside him and rested her head on the arm of his chair.

“Speak,” he commanded as he began to pet the creature on his left.

With a large squeak of the chair, Snape stood. He only looked forward at the ghastly man before him, never even bothering to acknowledge the brood of death eaters who shared the room.

“I would like to bring another along to Hogwarts. As Hagrid, the groundskeeper and teacher of Care of Magical Creatures, participated in the Seven Potters a few weeks ago, I believe we would be justified in removing him from his position as faculty. That would open up a third spot, one that I would like to see taken over by Y/N.”

You felt all the eyes in the room turn to you. You could hear all the murmuring around about the “Weasley-fucker” and “Potter-sympathizer” and more than a few voices pointing out how you had yet to “prove your loyalty.”

Certain members of the collective did support your position among them, though. Bellatrix surprisingly enough had been praising your tricks and malice after having witnessed you launch your ex with great force across the Weasley wedding tent and considered you feisty for the way you took out your handler. She was thoroughly amused by your eagerness to take down your old loved ones on your own and break a few rules in the process, something she knew too well, and had been putting in a good word for you among the women. Even Ismelda believed herself to have been wrong about you. But for the majority of the crowd, a few weeks of sitting among them and staying quiet was not enough to prove yourself an ally.

“Silence!” Voldemort screamed from the front of the room, his fist slamming hard upon the table. As the room returned to quiet, he added, “Explain your reasoning, Severus.”

“I seem to remember that Y/N here had quite the knack for getting into trouble and finding hidden things throughout the castle,” Snape said, with a particular emphasis on hidden that you wondered if he might be trying to convey something to you that he hoped the rest of the table might not pick up on.

But it was Voldemort who perked up at the choice of words.

“Yes,” he hissed as he waited for Snape to continue.

“And I believe keeping someone so untested close might prove a safer strategy than letting them roam free.”

Voldemort’s hand returned to stroking the snake beside him. You felt this dark eyes bore into you as he examined you with intensity.

“And how do you feel about this plan, Y/N?”

You swallowed and stood beside Severus, holding your hands in front of you and bowing your head slightly. You took a moment to think. This was not a part of the plan, being at Hogwarts. You were a fighter, a dueler, a powerful magic wielding who would assure that certain spells didn’t meet their intended targets, just as you had at Bill’s wedding. At Hogwarts, you would be away from the fray, but back in your comfort zone. If anything at Hogwarts should prove useful, you’d be in the best position to serve the Order. Not to mention, if the Carrows were as dumb as their appeared, you might be able to train the third years and above in defensive magic without raising a ton of suspicion.

“My lord, if it will serve your cause, then I will gladly take up residence at Hogwarts and assist Professor Snape to the best of my capabilities.”

Voldemort snorted, “It is Headmaster Snape, dear, but I do appreciate your input. Severus, I approve of this plan. And wait on my word as to when Y/N’s talents might be best put to use.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Severus said as you both took your seats. The room began to grumble again with complaints about your presence but you had seemed to impress upon the people who mattered that you were of value.

Beside you, Amycus Carrow placed a hand firmly upon your thigh. Your eyes shot up to see a baleful grin just inches from your face.

“I’m looking forward to working with you, Y/N,” he said with a squeeze, nearly cutting off circulation to your leg, “Very closely.”

You heard the whip of Snape’s hair beside you as he hissed out in whisper, “Take that hand off Professor L/N, Carrow, unless you wish to lose it.”

Immediately, Amycus pulled away.

When you turned to thank Snape, he refused to meet you gaze, instead looking straight, at Draco, Lucius, and Narcissa, making it very clear that he was doing you no kindness, as much as seeing order be maintained under his rule.

 

“What do you think it means?” Molly asked her son as they both took a seat upon the guest bed, each on the verge of tears. She sat the clock between them, and watched your smiling face looking up at them, completely unaware of your new position among the rest of the hands in mortal danger.

“I’m not sure, a deviation from the plan maybe? Like everything up to this point was in Y/N’s mission briefing and now something’s changed? Do we know anything about what is going on or are we completely blacked out with the Ministry takeover?” Charlie was leaning forward with elbows upon his knees, running his hands across his scalp like he could pull out the thoughts he needed with his bare hands.

“Pretty much,” Molly confirmed as she stood to begin pacing the room, “We may not know much but we can be reasonable. Y/N isn’t necessarily in any more danger than the rest of the family. Maybe nothing has changed.”

“I can’t just accept that, mom, and you know it,” he said as he stood. He put the bag over his shoulder, “I’m going.”

“Where?” Molly asked, but did nothing to stop him.

“To Rowan, maybe. Penny? Ben? Even Merula if I have to. Maybe someone has heard something,” he was beginning to sound frantic as he pulled the bag a little tighter on his shoulder. “But, mum, since I saw Y/N at the wedding, with those horrific people, I have never been more scared in my life. My love is out there, in the mouth of the lion’s den, playing along to whatever game they want until they decide to end it. At any moment, someone makes a wrong statement or wants to prove a point and Y/N’s dead. I know I need to trust, but I just can’t. I hoped getting back to work would help me forget, that I could just pretend this was like every other mission and wait for the owl like I always do, but this is different. This is too much and I need to do something. Anything. I just can’t lose Y/N. Not again. Not ever.”

And with those last words, he fell against the wall in tears.

Molly immediately on the floor, holding her son against her chest. He had long ago grown too big to truly find comfort in her embrace, but she did it anyway. It was lending her some strength too.

“I know the owl isn’t coming, mum. Either Voldemort dies or Y/N does. There is no other way that this ends. And I can’t just sit here and wait any longer.”

“I know, son, I know,” was all Molly could say as she swayed back and forth, holding the shell of her son.

There was a knock at the door and Molly looked up to see Ginny standing before them.

“News from Hogwarts,” she said with a shake of the Daily Prophet, “Snape’s in charge. And you aren’t going to believe who he’s selected to take over for Hagrid.”

 

“L/N, may I have a word?” Snape asked as the rest of the professors began to leave the staff room after your first assembly upon your arrival back at the castle. You stopped your walking at the sound of your name.

Seeing so many people you loved again should have been a pleasant reunion but none of them trusted you, at least not yet. Professor McGonagall had even smiled at you, but upon seeing your arm, shook her head and walked away without even an hello. And honestly, you just wanted to go to your room, curl up in your bed, and brainstorm how you could pull this whole thing off, help the children and build alliances with the professors, without giving yourself away to Snape and his death eater cronies. And you only had a few days to plan before the students arrived.

You desperately needed a good cry.

You took a swallow before addressing your new boss as he sat at the end of the long conference table with confidence, “Yes, headmaster?”

Snape watched behind you as the rest of the faculty fled the room. He waited until the door shut behind Sinistra to address you further.

“I am aware that given your previous… occupation, this position may not be the ideal fit for your skillset,” Snape said with a slow drawl that made it clear he was choosing his words very wisely, “But given your affinity for creatures and your boyfriend’s occupation, I trust that you will do your best to keep your courses up to our educational standards.”

“Ex,” you whispered under your breath before meeting Snape’s eyes.

“As you say,” he said as he stood from his seat to take slow, methodical, steps towards you. “It has been requested that Defense against the Dark Arts be retired from the curriculum, so as you see, there really is no more fitting position to offer you.”

He came to stand in front of you, his dark robes bellowing around him like a wall of black blocking out the candlelight. You felt the cold darkness encompass you immediately, but did your best to keep a strong, confident face.

“L/N, there will likely come a time when your other… skills will be called upon, by me and by our lord. I need to trust that you to follow my lead and to do what is in the… best interest of this school and its students. Am I understood?”

If you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t really understand. There was something hidden in his words, you could tell, but what was quite unclear. You knew you had the best interest of Hogwarts and its students at heart but you also trusted that you and Snape had very different ideas of what was best.

And so you said the one thing that you knew wasn’t a lie.

“I will follow your lead as headmaster and do what is in the best interest of the cause and of our students, sir. That is why I am here, after all.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed as he assessed you, but you did not budge. You simple stood your ground, your face affectless under his gaze.

With a swallow, he turned with a swish of his robes before projecting to the back wall, “You may go.”

You didn’t waste any time before leaving the room and the man who would still remain a reluctant ally.

 

As the sun set on the first of September, Charlie landed his broom in a clearing of the Forbidden Forest, a good trek away from the lake edge where he had requested that Ginny ask you to meet him. Having his little sister play messenger was not his favorite part of the plan as it certainly put her at risk, but he could think of no other way to get the message to you without putting you even more at risk. Your previous relationship with the Weasleys was no secret, so Ginny approaching you would raise little suspicion.

He practically ran out of the forest, so eager to even just look upon you again. He knew he was early. Honestly, he hadn’t a clue when you would be able to see him, if at all. But he also knew he would stand in rain, sleet, snow, or hail to see you again. He’d stand for a year if you asked him, two if you didn’t.

But lucky for him, an hour was all it took you.

“Charlie,” said the voice of his dreams, so foreign and angelic that it took him a moment to process it was real. He dug his feet out of the mud to turn to you and upon seeing your face, very much alive and very much yours, he felt all the tension he had been holding in his chest ease.

He watched you at the top of the hill, your form illuminated so delicately in the moonlight, and he couldn’t help but smile. You started on a run, allowing gravity to assist you as you moved with speed towards him. Your robes were billowing behind you like a full dress and he found himself imagining Bill’s wedding again, though this time with you by his side, dancing in time with the trumpets. The sight alone had him in tears.

“My love, my love, my love,” his brain chanted with each of your paces, with each of the beats of his heart that grew louder and louder as he counted down the milliseconds until everything was right in the world again as he held you once more.

Before he could even take two steps towards you, you flung yourself into his arms and forced the air from his lungs. But he didn’t need to breath. You were life and oxygen all on your own, the only thing he needed to sustain his soul. His other half had returned to his side, even if only for a moment, and for the first time in well over a month, he felt completely whole.

You didn’t even bother with words, instead choosing to cover his face and neck in kisses, each quicker and more desperate than the last. It was taking almost all the strength his legs had in them to keep you both upright. And just as you began to move your mouth to the hollow of his collarbone, the one place you knew was enough to turn any innocent affection into a heated exchange within seconds, he found the will to pull himself away from you.

“Y/N,” he breathed out as he looked down at your face. Your breathing was labored and your eyes mostly lidded. It took you a few blinks before you regained yourself and looked upon him properly.

“Charlie,” was all you managed before you were leaning forward to kiss him once more, but firm hands on your shoulders held you back.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you said, offering him a smile. Charlie lit up the moment your lips spread, like a child told that Christmas came a day early.

“I never gave up on you,” he whispered. He reached out to stroke your cheek, feeling the delicate skin again upon his fingers, something he missed more than he could express. His earning for you was not eased by your presence. Not one bit. Talking was proving difficult when each of you just wanted to feel again, to know the solid form of the other permanently against your skin.

“I didn’t think you would.”

With a sigh, Charlie pulled you against his chest, taking in the scent of your hair and the feel of your warm limbs around his waist.

“Moody?” was all he asked, like it answered every question.

“His idea,” you confirmed, “All of it. Well, except this,” you added with a gesture to your robes and formal hat, ones fit a professor.

Charlie could do nothing but sigh and hold you tighter. He knew how much you loved Hogwarts, how you dreamed of retiring from your work as an auror and teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts someday, just as he would leave Romania and open a sanctuary for the Hebridean Blacks and maybe assist with Care of Magical Creatures once the sanctuary was self-sufficient. And now this, this taint upon this place and all it held for you. He hurt for you more than he hurt for himself, for the life you wanted to live destroyed with this war and with your sacrifice for the good of all wizard kind.

“The good news is I am much better positioned to help the innocent children here than if I was in the thick of the war still. Snape has also taken a liking to me, if you can believe it. I think he suspects something and wants to keep me close, just in case.”

You let out a shuttered breath with the cold and on instinct Charlie ran his palms up and down your arms. But he didn’t get very far before he felt the upraised, tarnished skin of your left forearm. He rolled up your sleeve and pulled your arm up into the moonlight. And upon seeing the black ink swirling in demonic shapes upon your skin, he wanted to cry for you all over again.

You bit your lip at his inspection.

“This had to be real,” you said in justification.

Charlie didn’t meet your gaze but instead focused on the skin under his palm, skin he had kissed time and time again, had held against his chest as you found sleep upon him, had wrapped in his jumpers on cold nights like today. This skin he knew better than his own some days. To see it so changed was something his mind couldn’t process.

He leaned forward and kissed the snake and skull that filled your arm. He ran his fingers across the lines gently and slowly, studying and memorizing this new part of you.

“Thank you for this,” he said as he kissed your forearm once more before returning it to your side. He saw the tears pricking at your eyes again at his tenderness. The man you loved was always willing to see the good in you, always looking for reasons to love you more and better.

“What do we do?”

“I’m not sure,” you responded as you ran your fingers through his hair, so much shorter than you liked it. His beard was growing in too, shades red and blond and orange in the light reflecting off the water, masculine and seductive without even trying.

“Can we send owls? Can we see each other in the forest? Can you provide me updates somehow?”

“Monday nights in the forest grove? Where we used to—“

“Where I used to make love to you in spring,” he interjected with a grab at your hips. The smile upon his lips was enough to make you want to drag him there now, to have him lay you down in the wildflowers and have you like he did back when you were seventh years.

“I was going to say where we used to meet the centaurs but that, too.”

Charlie laughed, “I’ll bring the blankets and the wine.”

You leaned up to kiss him once more. “I must go before they know I’m gone.”

You went to pull away but Charlie wasn’t having it. He took your left hand and pulled you forward once more against his chest, hard and strong and warm, home to you in so many ways.

“That morning you left me,” Charlie whispered into your ear, “I had a gift I never got to give you.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out something so small and delicate you couldn’t see it. But when he held it up for your inspection, the light hit it just right and you saw the gold ring, polished and glistening between his fingers.

“Please, love?” he asked, “I said it that morning and I will say it again; if this war ends and I don’t have you on the other side, we won’t have won at all. Not to me. I need you when this is over. Please? Please be mine?”

You ran your hand down his chin, through the alluring hair that now covered his jaw bone.

“I’ve always been yours,” you told him, “But I’ll gladly marry you. I love you, Charlie.”

Charlie let out a large puff of air, a release of tension at your words.

“I love you, too,” he said as he slipped the band he forged upon your left finger. He kissed the ring and then moved his lips to kiss the brand once more, a promise to love you, all of you, for the rest of his days.

Just then, there was a rustling in the trees from which you came.

“Go!” you said in a loud whisper, pushing Charlie towards the forest.

He took a few steps but then turned again.

“Y/N!’ he called as you watched the trees for the source of the noise. You quickly gave him your attention.

“Tomorrow. Nine o’clock. Tap your radio and say, “Weasley.” And remember when you feel surrounded by snakes that you are a fearsome beauty and you will conquer them all. Thank you. I love you.”

You raised an eyebrow at him but he simply blew you a kiss and disappeared into the forest.

You watched just moments later as a tall, imposing figure came through the tree-line before you. You could identify those hooded eyes and long nose from a mile off and the sight instantly had your skin crawling.

Amycus Carrow walked with measured steps towards you, his common intimidation tactic of looming while in your presence even visible in his walk. You did your best to cross your arms in front of you and smile as bright and welcoming as you could muster.

“Your enthusiasm sickens me,” he said as he reached you, though the grin upon his face seemed to say otherwise.

You took a moment to compose yourself, to step into the pious persona you cultivated so well these past few weeks.

“I only wish to serve,” you said with a faint smile on your lips. 

“Oh, I can think of a few ways you could serve me,” he hissed as he stepped even closer into your space. You tried your hardest not to puke.

“Simply say the word. I believe Professor Snape has given you a few instructions as to how I might be of most use to this new administration.”

At your ignoring of his advances, Carrow scoffed. He reached a hand around your neck, grabbing in a way that from him was menacing but from Charlie might have been seductive.

“The first thing is not running off into the woods during dinner, little pet. Your presence is required at all faculty functions.”

You felt his fingers gripping into your collar bone. You knew you needed an excuse, one that would distract long enough for Charlie to leave. And so you stepped forward, pressing your chest ever so slightly against Carrow’s robes, enough to feel his breath hitch and his hand loosen upon you, enough to seduce but not enough to arouse suspicion.

“But it is such a beautiful night,” you pouted, looking up at him through your lashes, “Far too lovely to be cooped up in a castle. I know these grounds better than most. Should I not enjoy myself a stroll?”

With the last words you grabbed at the edges of his robes and tugged. You watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. You were close enough to feel a small rise in pressure in his slacks. You immediately regretted your course of action. But it was too late to go back.

“But of course, my dear,” Amycus offered sweetly as he slid his hand from your neck around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. “But you shouldn’t be out here unaccompanied. It simply isn’t proper.”

And with that, he began to guide you around the lake, mocking the way a gentleman might hold you, tight against his side and all menacing. You wanted more than anything to pull away, to push him and curse him for daring to defile your skin with his fingers, but this is what was needed to stay alive here and to help Harry and all the innocent students who would be victim of this man’s sadism. And so you swallowed and walked in time with the man beside you.

 

Charlie watched the exchange from just beyond the trees. He couldn’t hear what you were saying but he saw the touches and the tension. Godric, it took everything in him not to curse the man who might chose to prey upon his betrothed in such a way.

Charlie raised his wand, prepared to protect you if the situation called for it. He trusted you to handle yourself but he simply couldn’t stop. If he had it in him to protect you, he would, just as he always had. Long before he had even promised himself to you as a lover, he protected you as a friend.

And as you began walking, just as Charlie watched the sinister man’s hand slip dangerously low on your back, caressing the top of your rump, squeezing the flesh there with his long, bony digits, you snapped your gaze into the woods.

You didn’t meet Charlie’s eyes. Your look was a few feet to the left and just a little high. But the tightness in your brow and the intensity of your stare conveyed the message clearly: do not engage.

Charlie swallowed. Watching another man touch you was almost torture, but he slipped his wand into his pocket and made to turn towards the grove where he left his broom. But he decided to take one last glance at you as you moved along the collection of shrubs that lined the northern edge of the lake.

You pulled forward out of Carrow’s hold ever so slightly. As you did so the moonlight caught the gold upon your finger once more, the metal Charlie had bend and shaped himself in the fiery breath of Norberta, a call to the time he used the mission from Ron to save the beast as an excuse to visit you during auror training. You had written him a little later that you had nearly failed your tracking exam the next day because you kept getting distracted by the smell of him upon your skin and in your hair. Charlie had felt a little bad at the time, but upon reflection as the years went on, he often looked on the memory as a sign of the purity of your love. You were each other’s biggest weakness, yes, but also your greatest strength.

And that sight was all he needed to know you would be safe. That and the promise of seeing you in just a week’s time, in the grove where he learned to love your body just as much as he loved your spirit.

 

The following night you were running a little behind as a meeting of the professors had quickly turned heated. It was five past nine when you entered your quarters. You secured the room with locks and silencing charms before setting yourself down at your desk beside your radio.

You did as Charlie instructed, tapping the device with your wand and using the password “Weasley.” Just saying the name made you happy. Maybe you’d make it your own when you were married.

Suddenly, a voice you recognized sounded through the room, a friend of the twins. Lee, was it?

“We have formal report that Smaug has officially made contact with his mate, whom we’ll be calling Medusa for safety, Medusa was once presumed dead but is currently residing at Hogwarts among the lot of death eaters and is working to protect the students within. Chief-Death-Eater believes he’s found a hidden weapon in Medusa, but Medusa is still a strong supporter of Harry Potter and is dedicated to fighting for us from the inside. So if you have children at Hogwarts, make sure to listen in to the Hogwarts report later in this broadcast for more details.”

You found yourself laughing.

Medusa. Of course Charlie would call you Medusa. A beauty surrounded by snakes. If only you could turn them all to stone with a look. But that was sort of what you were doing, weren’t you? These monsters weren’t looking at you, at least not at the real you. They were seeing you through a mirror like Perseus, the reflection of the sort of monster they wanted you to be, not the strong, fearsome auror who would sacrifice life and limb for the good for all wizards, regardless of blood, that you were underneath.

And eventually you would strike, using the snakes they had given you as both a curse and a crown against them.


	6. Part 6 - A Proper Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning of sex in this part. I have denoted with ** where it starts and ends so feel free to skip it if it isn't your thing.

As Charlie approached the fourth hour of his flight north to Scotland from Aunt Muriel’s, he could not stop smiling. It had only been six days since he saw your face, held it in his hands, and kissed it with the kind of passion and reverence that were fitting his marriage proposal, but he was overwhelmed with yearning to do it all again. Six days was nothing compared to the months you would sometimes go apart when he was in Romania and you were in some unknown corner of the country taking down dark wizards, but not so much was at risk then. Six days with you in the belly of the beast was far too long. And if he had to fly four hours every day to confirm you were alive and well and not victim to Snape’s desire to prove himself loyal, then he would, even if his thighs burned and his hands ached the entire way.

Charlie turned his head as he began his descent just south of Inverness. If he had not attached a basket to the back of the Firebolt the twins had purchased him last year, he probably could have saved a half hour. But as important as getting to you was, showering you in love was the highest priority. You were making the biggest sacrifice here, putting yourself deep among the darkest evils the world could muster to sabotage and to save. You allowed them to mar your skin, to take what you held dear, and use you, torture you, and violate you in ways he couldn’t imagine, just to better the lives of others. He needed you to know you were loved and appreciated, even if all he could do was hold you tight and tell you those words over and over.

The basket still hung securely on the end, bouncing lightly among the bristles with each gust of wind. Charlie reached back to adjust the lid, which sat rather lopsided due to the neck of the bottle of wine poking out.

Charlie let out a sigh as he returned his focus to flying. He could already feel his body warming from the liquid and you on top of him. He could already feel the intoxication of the fluid and of your flesh and your lips and the way you sigh his name as he enters you. Charlie never really understood what all the fuss was about regarding sex until he allowed himself to love you. And with you, sex was an expression of deep-seated emotions, a way of saying with the body so many things he often had trouble putting into words.

And today, he needed you to hear those things, and he needed to hear them in turn as well.

As the castle slowly came into view just below the clouds, Charlie swerved and dove into the forests beyond, flying low between the evergreens to evade detection. And when he came into the small clearing in the heart of the woods, he nearly fell off his broom at what he saw.

Two bonfires burned on either side of a large red quilt, illuminating the grove and providing immense warmth on an otherwise brisk night. A bottle of wine sat against the stones, half empty and lazily recorked. And you laid among a smattering of pillows, clad in the long robe Charlie had gifted you two Valentine’s Days ago so you could keep warm in his cabin and still not dress, your head deep in a book as you reclined on your side.

Charlie couldn’t take his eyes off of you: your easy relaxation, your lazy movements, your complete comfort, and your legs sticking out ever so slightly. You were an image of peacefulness, something he never expected given, well, everything.

When you heard him nearly crash to the ground, you flicked up your eyes and smiled.

“I know you said you’d bring the wine,” you began, pausing to laugh as Charlie stumbled to stand on his feet, “but I got impatient.”

Charlie laughed as he dropped his broom down between his legs, not even bothering with the basket upon the end. The instant he could, he began quick strides towards you, pushing his coat off his sleeves with each step, abandoning it to the dirt as soon as he could.

You couldn’t even stand to properly greet him. Within seconds, Charlie crashed into you, tossing you back into the pillows as his hands found home under your robe against your bare waist.

You squealed and scrambled backwards to get away. Charlie looked upon you with outright fear, unsure of what he did to warrant your fleeing.

“Charlie, your hands are like icicles!” you screamed.

Charlie looked down at his hands and, upon seeing the redness on his knuckles, chuckled.

“Sorry, love,” he said as he pulled his fingers to his mouth to blow upon them.

You gestured to your side, “We do have fire.”

Charlie took your suggestion and walked a few paces on his knees until he could hover his hands over the flames. He felt your arms come to rest upon his stomach and your head just between his shoulder blades. He smiled as you melted against him. The warming of his heart was a much quicker process than that of his limbs.

“I’ve missed you,” you said as you kissed the skin of his neck. It tickled Charlie more than he cared to admit given how rare it was that that bit of skin was ever exposed. He really needed to grow his hair back out, and avoid his mother any time she was near a pair of scissors.

“I’ve missed you, too.”

You sat together in comfortable silence for several minutes as Charlie waited for proper blood flow to return to him. He felt you pull away for a moment but before he could turn in curiosity, he heard the slosh of the wine bottle.

“Care for a glass?” you asked.

“Gladly.”

You crawled your way in front of Charlie, sat upon your knees, and held the bottle to his lips.

“Well, too bad because we don’t have any.”

Charlie obediently opened his mouth and allowed you to pour in a tablespoon of the cabernet. After he swallowed, he finally had the opportunity to laugh.

“You had time to bring out all this,” he said, gesturing with one hand to all the pillows and blankets you had amassed somehow, “And you didn’t bring glasses?”

You began playing with the hem of your robe, not meeting his eyes.

“I had my priorities,” you whispered, using that airy tone of voice that Charlie knew all too well from your bedroom, “And besides Pitts is still in the kitchens. Basically threw the bottle of wine at me just to get me to leave. All this I brought out here over the past few days. I’m storing things in the abandoned red cap hole for your visits.”

Charlie took the bottle of wine from between your legs as you spoke. He swallowed two giant gulps, determined to feel the same lightness you clearly were. He patted his lap with his free hand and immediately you straddled him. Charlie placed a hand within your robe but not against your skin, waiting for your approval of his touch. When you looked up at him through your lashes, he thought he might crumble to pieces. Everything he needed was in your eyes, reflections of the soul he loved so dearly that was housed within your frame, like a well-kept safe protecting the world’s most precious gemstone. These death eaters were banging at the doors, using their sharpest tools to drill and bend at the locks, but none of them could get to the treasures within, treasures you allowed him access to with just a simple look.

Without thought, Charlie crashed forward. His mouth eagerly sucked at your own, stealing your air and forcing you off-balance. Charlie’s hands held strong to your waist, abandoning the bottle of wine with a boom beside him. He felt the liquid spill against his jeans but he didn’t care a ton. They were about to be abandoned in a minute anyway.

He allowed his hands to run the length of your flanks and down your hips until he was cupping the cheeks of your rear, still covered in your robes, within his palms. With a quick jerk, he was up upon his knees, holding you tightly in the air. He felt your hands grip around his neck, pulling at the soft material of his t-shirt that covered his shoulder blades. Charlie moved his mouth down your jaw, sucking at the flesh just below your ear. He heard you hiss as he begin to take his steps. Your hips thrusted ever so slightly in his hands as he allowed his tongue to swirl against your neck, but Charlie held you tight.

Once he had you properly over the fort of pillows you had made, he laid you down. You never let go of his shirt and as you fell, you pulled the material over his head. Charlie found himself pushing at the sleeves of your robe once you were settled, all the while still frantically kissing your lips, eager to taste whatever elixir you had to offer. Your hands had found a way between his, frantically and ineffectively trying to pull at the button and zipper that held his jeans in place.

As your robe became just another blanket encompassing you, Charlie reached down to stop your hands. He wanted to simply stare at your body, completely exposed to him. He had expected some kind of undergarment, just something to protect you from the elements, but nothing blocked his gaze or his hands from your precious flesh. His eyes roamed each and every inch, each curve he had missed these past few months, each blemish and scar that let him know you were indeed you.

“I got impatience,” you said, pulling Charlie’s eyes to your face once more. Charlie laughed at your adorable pout.

“I’m not complaining,” he assured you before reaching down to undo his jeans with the ease you lacked.

 *******

His eyes once more found your chest so he could watch the rise and fall as you tried to catch your breath. He loved seeing the impact he had on you. Even after all these years, after fumbling around and discovering your sexuality together, you were still so in love, so infatuated with each other, and so, so eager for the kind of closeness that only sex could provide you both. Charlie couldn’t recall a time where he had gone from zero to one hundred so quickly, but watching your body, watching your nipples perk in the crisp chill of the night, watching the way your mouth puckered with each expressed breath, watching you, all of you, open up to him so beautifully, was all he needed after so much time apart.

When he had finally stripped himself bare, he came to rest between your legs. He laid himself upon you and enjoyed the feel of you immediately encircling him with all of you limps. Charlie found himself giggling into your neck, a sound so foreign to his lips, as he began lightly rocking his hips against you and kiss whatever bit of skin he could reach.

He felt the gentle scratch of flannel against his back, encompassing the both of you. He leaned forward to offer your neck a few more kisses as he enjoyed the feel of your hands running the length of his chest, through the coarse hairs that lined his belly and lower.

“Ready, love?” he asked when a particularly long stroke of his length against your core had you moaning and biting down upon his shoulder.

You pulled yourself away to meet his eyes, “Of course,” you said with a kiss to his beard and a suck upon his earlobe.

Charlie chuckled as he stroked himself a few times, moving what fluid he had to make those initial few thrusts as easy as he could for you. He took the time to touch you, gently and adoringly, calming your muscles and increasing your eagerness.

With a lift of your thighs, slowly, patiently, he entered you, watching your face the entire time for signs of discomfort. But you were lost to him. Your head was back against the pillows and your neck stretched so long that Charlie could see your pulse within. Your eyes were closed and your breathing steady. He knew that face of yours: the face of you trying to block out all other sensations to focus all your energy on feeling. Charlie loved when you lost yourself in him. But today was not the day for that.

“Sweetheart,” he called. Immediately, your eyes popped open. It was so rare he used a pet name other than love that it often got your attention. “I love you,” he whispered before leaning forward to kiss you on the mouth, just as slow and patient as his thrusts.

“I love you, too,” you said with a laugh that immediately turned into another moan and a flop of your head back against the pillows as Charlie pushed just a little deeper.

“No, no no,” he said. He bent down to pick you up once again. You whined as Charlie flipped unto his back, holding you in his lap as he continue his trusts upward. “No disappearing today, love, please. I’ve missed you too much.”

And just like that, you focused all your attention on Charlie, on the movement of your hips in time with his, the sound of his unstable breathing as he concentrated his energy, on the feel of him filling you, that torturous fullness that left you completely weak to the man.

And Charlie, too, found his eyes only upon you. With each of your tantalizing bounces atop him, he thought he might lose his mind in pleasure. Charlie’s strokes were long, deep and purposeful, so different from his normally playful and light demeanor. But still you found the perfect rhythm against him, matching his time and increasing his pleasure tenfold. You were perfect, a perfect fit, like he was meant to find home inside your body. And each stroke atop you was a shot of pleasure down his spine, a confirmation that you were the source of all good things, the fulfillment of the purest love his heart had to offer.

As the wind rustled through the trees, you began to rock more frantically against him. You buried your head in his neck and sucked upon the skin there along his collar bone. His hands held your hips and he deepened his movements. Before he knew it, his orgasm hit in like a freight train, hard and all-consuming, everything he had and felt for you leaving his body in a single, joyful burst.. He tensed and spasmed against your movements, enjoying the unintelligible sounds pouring from your mouth in volumes you grew accustomed to in the Romanian wilderness. All he could do was cling to the flesh of your tights and try his hardest to allow you to continue to take your pleasure from him until he felt you shake and come upon him. A few tears began to roll down his face, a natural result of the overwhelming emotion that came with having you so close, so happy, and so fully his.

 *******

As you came to, you reached up to rub the stray tears from his cheeks. Charlie opened his eyes to look upon your smiling face, happy and sweaty and only a little disheveled.

“My angel,” he whispered as he took you in, haloed by the campfires and the moon through the trees. A dark angel. A fallen angel burning red and gold, but his angel nonetheless.

You couldn’t help but smile, falling forward into his arms and against his chest. Charlie pulled the blanket over your back and shoulders, cocooning you against him.

“You’re always so romantic after sex.”

“Hmmm,” Charlie hummed, his attentions clearly elsewhere, perhaps the fire or the canopy of trees.

“An angel? Really?”

Charlie turned his head so he could meet your gaze. His eyes scanned your face, pausing just a moment at your lips before locking eyes once more.

“Yep, I stick by it,” he said, “Angel, for sure. And maybe a succubus, too, because I am fairly certain you’ve drained the life from me.”

You nestled closer and shut your eyes.

“I love you, Charles,” you sighed as you kissed his neck once more, “Good night.”

Charlie jerked upward.

“You can stay?” he asked.

“I’m not in charge of a house. I’m not doing rounds tonight. Of course I’ll stay.”

Charlie found himself smiling. He closed his eyes and sleep came quickly for the first time in a long while.

 

As the first rays of light broke through the trees and the embers of the fire began to lose their heat, Charlie stirred.

“Y/N,” Charlie whispered to the top of your head. He went to tap your face but instead felt some dampness upon his chest where your mouth hung upon just a little bit. He didn’t mind at all though. Clearly you were comfortable.

“Y/N, love, you need to get up.”

You began to stir and rub your eyes, but the instead you processed the light around you, you jumped upward, frantically searching for your clothes. As you began to toss the pillows and blankets aside in the search for your robes.

Charlie began to dress as well, though with much more calm than you had.

“Where’s my hat? Charlie, where’s my hat!” you were spinning in circles now as you slipped your arms through your outer layers.

Charlie searched around the pillows and found your wand. Once he handed it to you, you used it to summon your hat and the one sock you were still struggling to find, both flying up and at your face from among the blankets.

As you put on the last of your garments, Charlie stood before you in just his jeans and ran a hand down your arm.

“Y/N, whatever you need, I’m here for you. Next Monday, yes?”

You adjusted your hat on top of your head, and presented yourself for his inspection. Charlie fixed your collar and gave you a smile.

“Yes, next week,” you confirmed.

Charlie’s hand moved up your neck and pulled you forward for a slow and purposeful kiss.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips as he pulled away.

“I love you, too, fiance,” you said as you pecked him once more. With a final smile, you turned and ran out of the forest grove, holding up your skirts with one hand and holding your hat in place with the other.

Charlie turned to begin the task of finding his shirt and heard your voice off in the distance.

“Oh, the pillows!” you shouted, but Charlie just waved a hand in your direction, already lifting his wand to fold and organize the pile.

 

As you slunk through the giant oak doors to the Entrance Hall of the castle, you heard the clank of forks and dishes and the chatter of children that let you know breakfast was in full swing. You took a moment to catch your breath before entering Great Hall when you were shocked out of your skin by a voice behind you.

“Professor, it is nice of you to join us,” said McGonagall from her place beside the house point hourglasses.

“Well– I–” you managed to stammer, but Minerva just laughed.

“My dear, those are the robes you wore to dinner last night and that is quite a lovely ring you have on your finger.”

 

You instinctively reached down to cover your hand at her inspection.

Minerva took a step closer and looked at you hard and long from over the square rims of her glasses.

“Now, if you intend to keep sneaking out to meet that Weasley of yours, then you best bring a change of clothes and maybe leave some music on in your room, yes?”

You shrunk a little at her inspection, though in the back of your head, you realized what a miracle this was she knew of your true intentions without you having to find a way to say it.

“How?” you asked.

Minerva gave you a smile as she reached up and pulled a small twig from behind your ear. Tossing it aside, she took your arm and began walking you to the Great Hall. She seemed lighter somehow and let out a small breath once you reached the doors leading to breakfast.

“Let’s just say I am also watching for Potter, Medusa,” Minerva said with a wink in her voice that reminded you so much of her deceased mentor. “Tell your fiance hello for me next time you see him, yes? He was the best quidditch player I ever had the privilege of leading, and a good kid too. Well, good when he wasn’t following you into danger or falling lovesick during my classes.”

You laughed at the absurdity of it all. And when you regained yourself, you went to speak again but she interrupted you once more.

“Yes, dear, I’ll keep your secret and help however I can. And take off that ring of yours. Carrow would be mighty angry if he knew you were taken. And you should speak to Ginevra. You may be of more use here than you realize.”

And with that McGonagall opened the doors to the Great Hall and walked you to the head table, keeping the kind of distance expected of one who openly opposed the presence of death eaters.

 

After breakfast, class with the fifth years and the third years, lunch, a staff meeting, class with the sixth years, including a small chat with Ginny, and a trip to Hagrid’s hut to care for the kneazles he had imported before he left, you were finally situated at the dinner table, casually enjoying your meal and reading the newspaper, searching for clues of anything that might reveal what was going on with the Order.

You were halfway through a story on Pius Thicknesse’s first set of departmental evaluations when you felt a hand ghost your lower back, sending chills down your spine. In front of you, at the second long table, you watched Ginny’s eyes narrow at the figure hovering over you.

Before you even turned to look, you said, “Amycus, is there something I can help you with?”

“Such things would be appropriate for a dining room, beautiful,” he whispered directly into your ear as his arm snaked around your waist. His fingers danced over your belly button and threatened to go lower. “Maybe I could sneak you into the dungeons, lift up these robes over that gorgeous ass of yours and let–”

You pushed your chair back into him hard, knocking him just a few inches further away. You turned and smiled, pretending like you had just meant to give him your full attention. But his face made clear that he was insulted by the gesture.

Just as Amycus began to snarl, you heard the squeak of the headmaster’s chair. Snape stood and walked towards you both. With his hands clasped firmly in front of him, he peered down upon you protectively, almost fatherly if he could ever be such a thing.

“Ready, Professor?” he asked to Amycus, spitting out the last word like a threat more than an honor.

“I was just telling Y/N that we needed to leave for a meeting.”

“Okay,” you said with a smile, trying to maintain your chipper and ignorant attitude, “Will I need my course plans?”

Snape frowned at you, “It is not one of those meetings.”

You let out a small gasp when you understood his words. Immediately you stood and followed the two men out of the hall. Just as you were rounding the Slytherin table, you felt your arm begin to tingle, and then full-on burn. By the time you were fully off the grounds and into Hogsmeade to apparate to your master, your arm was in excruciating pain.

 

When you arrived at Malfoy manor, Alecto was already there, side by side with her master, eagerly awaiting the news. The room was surprisingly empty, just the Hogwarts staff, the Malfoys, Bellatrix and Yaxley.

“Severus,” Voldemort hissed as you arrived, “Please, be seated.”

As you moved towards your end of the table, Snape pulled out a chair for you beside Bellatrix. You took the seat offered and turned towards the woman who was twisting her curls around her wand. She offered you a toothy grin, which you returned.

“Killed anyone this week?” she whispered your way like a schoolgirl gossiping about a crush.

“No,” you said, trying your hardest to sound sad about it, “But there were quite a few children I had to hang upside-down for insubordination.”

“Oh, fun!” Bellatrix squealed. You heard a huff from the man beside you, you looked up to see Snape angrier than you had ever really seen him. His jaw was clenched and he was staring down at you like the devil itself.

“What’s got him so sour?” Bellatrix asked. But before anyone could respond, Carrow had reached over to take the seat beside you. Snape snapped to, hitting Carrow’s hand deftly with the wood of his wand, before taking the seat with a flourish for himself.

“Now, everyone,” Voldemort began once Carrow sat next to his sister. “I am sure you have heard of the misfortune we experience with the recent infiltration to the Ministry. Many muggle-borns have escaped our custody and Potter has escaped with some valuable items which were in the Ministry’s possession.”

Voldemort took a look around the room to make sure everyone was listening intently.

“It is imperative that we keep our most critical weapons in a place of great security. Bellatrix has offered her family vaults as a primary storage center for us but now we need to collect! Severus, I need the sword of Gryffindor. Bring it to me upon our next meeting.”

You felt the words more than you heard them. The most powerful weapon you knew of at Hogwarts, a sword forged by the finest goblins and the most precious silver, used by Harry to destroy one of the greatest evils within the castles. Your wheels were already turning…

“And now a show!” Voldemort cheered. He waved to Bellatrix, who skipped out of the room. A moment later she lead in Ollivander and a few men and women you didn’t recognize. They were chained together and placed in a line by Bellatrix at the end of the table.

“Y/N,” Voldemort said as Bellatrix unchained Ollivander and immediately used her wand to float him above the table, “Care to start today’s festivities?”

And with a swallow and a smile towards your master, you lifted your wand. You tried to convey your sorrow in your eyebrows as you met Ollivander’s gaze. And with a deep breath and a thought to Charlie, you managed to conjure the intent needed to utter the first of many curses you’d be responsible for today.


	7. Part 7 - The Sword of Gryffindor

“He wants the Sword of Gryffindor,” you said into the silence between you and Charlie as you laid together in the forest grove. Charlie’s bare chest rose and fell with ease beneath you until you spoke those words. You felt the pause, the stress overwhelming him as you turned your talk from sweet nothings to serious business. 

“Can’t give a man a minute to recover himself?” Charlie asked with a laugh you knew was meant to ease his worries more than your own. He kisses the top of your head as he pulled the blankets tighter around you both.

“Sorry, love.”

Charlie sighed, “Next time I come visit, there is a moratorium on shop talk until we have our clothes back on.”

“Oh, Charlie, then that would be never!” you whined.

“Exactly,” Charlie confirmed as he snuggled deeper into the blankets beside you, rubbing the sheen of sweat still upon his skin against you cheek as he did so.

You let out a huff and fell back against the mound of pillows that made your makeshift love fort, pulling yourself away from the encompassing arms of your fiance. He tried his hardest to keep a hold of you as you rolled and let out a groan as he realized you were getting too far away. He allowed you a moment to settle yourself before patiently crawling towards you. When you nodded, he curled himself back up against your form, this time positioning his head on your chest, placing you in the position of dominance, a sign he was willing to listen.

Charlie lifted his hand, motioning you to continue talking once he was fully settled.

“Well obviously I can’t let the sword get to them but I have no idea how to obtain the sword myself. I know it is in the headmaster’s office. I’ve seen it in meetings. But do I steal it and just let Snape figure out how to deal with Voldemort, knowing Snape will suspect I took it and probably come after me, or do I somehow find a way to conjure a passable fake to replace it? And I can’t just walk into Snape’s office and lift it from the wall. All the portraits will talk.”

“Well, how did Harry get it?” Charlie asked.

You reached up to run your hands through his locks, loose underneath your chin, as you thought hard on the matter.

“I’m honestly not sure. Ginny probably knows, though.”

“And why do you think chief death eater wants the Sword of Gryffindor?”

“Does it really matter?” you sighed. You turned over to stare into the fire, already feeling like this mission was too much for you. Your heart rate began to rise and you feel shakes coming on. Charlie’s grip tightened on your waist in response.

“Hey, hey,” he whispered into your ear as he moved up to kiss the pulse against your neck, “We’ve got this, love. It’s okay.”

You took some stabilizing breaths. It was such a weird feeling, being scared. Years as an auror you thought had made you impervious to fear. But then again, you always had a mission plan and a boss to guide you and a clear moral understanding of your goals, not to mention a Charlie to hold you and help you celebrate when you returned. This uncertainty, this one foot in, one foot out thing you were doing was exhausting and it was becoming near impossible to see the forest through the tree.

The flames grew and flared red and orange and vibrant white as sparks shot up into the sky around you with each crack of the wood. You tried to align your breathing with the crescendo of the fire. Slowly, but surely, you regained yourself.

“It matters,” Charlie began to explain when he felt you relax, “because any fake sword you make will need to mimic the specific properties Voldemort is interested in.”

You thought deep, “Harry did stab a basilisk with it. I’ll have to see if there is a way to detect that kind of blood.”

“There isn’t unless you use it. The blood is invisible but the effects linger,” Charlie interjected. When you looked down at his face again you saw him beaming.

You laughed, “I knew there had to be a reason I’m marrying a creatures expert.”

Charlie laughed too, peppering your collar bone with kisses. His hands came down a little bit to hold and lift your hips ever so slightly, giving him the space to move between your legs once more. His lips ran down your sternum, occasionally looking up to meet your eyes as he sank even lower. You threw your head back to his attentions, but when he bit the skin of your hip bone, you jumped a little and gave him your eyes again.

“Keep talking, love,” he whispered up with a smirk, “I’m still listening.”

And as he dove down below the covers, you continued to plan, pausing to breathe or moan every now and again. And by the time you had a fully formed strategy, the moon was high in the sky, you were completely and utterly sated, more exhausted than you had been in many months, and somehow even more in love with the man holding you close as he snored lighting in your ear. You felt confident as you closed your eyes to sleep.

image  
“Ms. Weasley?” you called to the retreating form of sixth years leaving your classroom.

Today’s lesson had been on proper protection tactics against grindylow and honestly you were beginning to see the recognition on some students’ faces that you were subtly trying to teach them defensive magic, which scared you a little. Drawing a line so students knew you weren’t the kind of evil the Carrows were offering was important, but you also didn’t want them to accidentally say anything to Snape that might add to his suspicion. You needed to be the nice death eater, but a death eater nonetheless. On that front, you knew you were failing, but honestly you were having a hard time caring when children’s lives were at stake.

You watched Ginny whisper something to Luna before falling behind, waiting for you by the exit until everyone had filed out. Once they had, you moved to shut the door and casted a silencing and locking charm. Ginny smiled once you were surely alone.

“Someone seems happy today,” she teased, plopping her stuff down onto the desk she had just vacated, “Did my brother fly up last night? Leave a good impression?” Ginny was trying her hardest to suppress a smirk.

You shot her a glare as deadly as you could muster, but all Ginny could do was laugh.

“Y/N, you really need to practice your evil faces! That’s pathetic!”

You sighed and plopped down into the seat beside your soon-to-be sister. You gentle laid your head upon her shoulder and she responding in turn. With her head resting upon your crown, you began to lay out in detail what you needed to know.

“The Sorting Hat,” Ginny said when you finished your whispered ramble in her ear. “Harry pulled it from the Sorting Hat somehow. I never really understood it, I wasn’t awake for that part, but he always told me it just fell on his head when he told the Sorting Hat he needed help.”

You leaned up and kissed your sister-in-law’s cheek.

“I can work with that. Thank you.”

Ginny reached down and grabbed your hand as it rested on your thigh.

“We’re family. I don’t know as much as you about this place, and I have no way to get in touch with Harry, but… I’ll be by your side through all of this. I promise,” she said and you could hear the sadness in her voice. You knew how much she loved Harry. It seemed even mentioning his name was painful for her. This war had torn too much couples apart and now that you heard her speak of it, you felt insanely guilty that each Tuesday she had to see your beaming face in this classroom as a result of the hours you were able to spend with her brother in the woods, renewing your love over and over.

You felt the lump in your throat but before you could address it, Ginny exhaled a giant puff of air and stood. She offered you a wave as she slung her bag back over her shoulder. She took a few steps towards the door, but paused before she could reach the handle.

“Oh, I still haven’t seen the ring!”

You reached into your robes and pulled out the long chain upon which you kept it, buried deep under your layers and much closer to your heart.

Ginny stepped forwards to exam the gold in detail.

“Norberta did a good job,” Ginny said as the light caught the bevelled edges, “So shiny.”

Charlie hadn’t explained to you the origin of the ring, but knowing he had forged it himself with the help of the one dragon who loved you more than any other and that he had done it with enough foresight for Ginny to be in on the secret had you beaming. He really did love you, not that you ever doubted.

Ginny returned the ring to you with a half smile before walking forward again and twisting the door handle. When it wouldn’t open, she turned to you with a proper death glare, one much better than any you could manage.

With a laugh, you lifted your wand and spoke the counter charms that would unlock the door for her. As you watched her exist, you took a moment to examine the wand in your hand again. Dragon heartstring, you thought, how fitting. The wand really does choose the wizard.

image  
You watched the long nose of Amycus Carrow lift at your knocking, casting a shadow over the devious smile that played on his lips the instant he made sense of your form.

“May I come in?” you asked from the doorway, trying your hardest to hold your hands in front of you and play the meek creature that his ego so desperately wanted to conquer.

“Of course, my sweet,” he cooed, shuffling the papers on his desk as though he were somehow busy, “In need of my services?”

You took steady steps into the room, making a careful point not to shut the door behind you, not trusting that you were by any means safe alone with this man. You intentionally didn’t take either of the seats in front of his desk as his hand gesture clearly offered. You instead nestled yourself on the corner, on top of a few of his papers, so your legs hung dangerously close to his hands and you could lean over just enough for him to smell you if he wanted.

“In a way,” you whispered as you reclined on your hand across his desk, a look that to some would be casual, but to a man ready to pounce on you at any moment was dominant. “I was wondering if you knew anything about Snape’s schedule, say a time where he might be out of the castle, so we might have a little fun with the children…”

You reached forward to play with the hem of his robe that formed his sleeve. You knew exactly what disgusting thing he was going to say, and so you steeled your brain accordingly.

“Oh, you tease,” he purred as he allowed his hand to roam up your thigh, “I’d much prefer we have a little fun instead.”

You sighed, “As tempting as that is, I really do think these children could use some proper discipline.”

Carrow just sighed and grabbed around your kneecap.

“Snape’s meeting with our lord tonight after dinner. Delivering the sword, I think. Alecto was complaining about having to stand guard at Bellatrix’s vault tonight during breakfast. .”

You leaned forward and kissed his cheek. You quickly plopped down from the desk and practically skipped to the door, pausing to give him a smile.

“You’re a life saver!”

“Glad I could help,” Amycus said more to your rear than your face, “And I’ll leave my door open tonight should you be in need of any additional hands.”

You smiled and did your best to blush before shutting the door behind you. The instant you heard it click, you shook with disgust. But you got what you needed. You ran your hand over your knee, trying to remember Charlie’s hands there instead of the creep on the other side of the wall, welcomed consensual touches instead of violations. Some day that would be all your body would know.

image  
After a robust dinner, you followed Snape back towards his office, using the excuse of needing to discuss the specifics of your lesson plan now that your master had seen to changing the legal statuses of certain beings, beasts, and spirits to fit his disgustingly warped world view. Of course, you didn’t say it that way to Snape.

When you reached the door to the headmaster’s office, your boss turned to you with a dismissive eyebrow. You nodded and turned to leave him, but stayed just long enough to hear him whisper his password, “doxy venom,” before the statue slammed shut behind him.

As night fell, you roamed the halls, part of your rounds as a professor. You knew kids would be sneaking around. You knew you would catch a few. The Carrows had been doing their best to torture any poor student found out of their beds and you knew the same would be expected of you. Anything less would raise suspicions. So you did your best to be unseen, or at least make your presence known with loud noises and long shadows so the young ones could disperse and hide as necessary. The only exceptions you made to the rules were Ginny and Luna, who knew of your proper affiliations. And McGonagall often took duties with you so she could stumble upon students before you, and play good cop-bad cop to maintain your reputation.

But tonight you were the one doing the sneaking. As you came along the seventh floor, well into the wee hours of the morning, you took a moment to cast an invisibility charm on yourself, your favorite bit of auror magic, and walked as slowly as you could to the tower of the headmaster.

After a minute of walking, the sound of a shutting door left you still and silent. You turned to see two seventh years in their pajamas leaving an unoccupied classroom. They seemed to whisper a few words, the taller looking around the corridor before leaning down to kiss the other. It was a slow, chaste kissed, unpracticed but loving, and you watched them hold hands until they had to part ways for their respective towers.

You smiled to yourself once they were gone, remembering all the nights you stood watch over some meet-up location as Charlie finished rounds. You remembered that first night back in fifth years where you had kissed Charlie in the artifacts room as you sorted through your brother’s papers. And then he kissed you in turn until dates to Hogsmeade and night time meet-ups became commonplace. You shared many kisses just like the one you just witnessed, so inexperienced but so eager. You loved those kisses, touched your lips during class and dreamt of them for days. If only you knew then the kinds of kisses Charlie could give you in the cover of darkness after years of perfecting loving one another.

You shook your head to refocus. And with an uttered “doxy venom” you entered the headmaster’s quarters and made you way up the stairs towards the impressive office above.

Just as you suspected, all the headmaster portraits were sleeping, or at least pretending to. The shelf upon which the sword normally sat was bare. It was late enough now that Snape had to have passed off the sword. They wouldn’t waste time transferring it to the vaults. Once it was there, no one would know if it magically disappeared. You doubted anyone would check for quite some time. And so you tiptoed as best you could across the room, behind Snape’s desk, doing your best not to disturb the intricate display of many rare and delicate potions. You reached up on stable feet to grab the lump of sleeping fabric that was the Sorting Hat.

As quietly as you could, you cast an invisibility charm up the hat so it wouldn’t appear to be floating, and rushed as quickly as you dared out of the tower.

image  
Just a few minutes later, you were swiftly shutting the doors to your quarters behind you, undoing your invisibility with a swift motion of your wand. You immediately felt exhausted from which a drain on your magic, but it was worth it. You felt the fabric of the Sorting Hat move against the crock of your arm, clearly angry at being kidnapped. You pulled it away to set it on the bed in front of you. When you cast the counter to make it visible again. you could tell it had been speaking.

“…far too early to be disturbed…” it was muttering at no one in particular.

You took a second to think, wanting the hat to quiet so you could tell it the whole story. But then again, did it need to know? Would it tell Snape? Would it decide you weren’t trustworthy and scream for the whole castle to hear? And how does one even retrieve a sword from a hat? Do you just ask? Does it only appear to noble Gryffindors who have proven their bravery? If only you could get it to see your true intentions, to understand the whole situation…

You grabbed at the hat and pulled it tight down upon your head, blocking out the light and surrounding you in only the gentle sound of its voice.

“Ah, dear Y/N,” it whispered directly into your ears, “It has been a long time since I’ve sat upon your head. Still so filled with mischief. Still so eager to make a difference. I made the right call with you, if I do say so myself.”

“Listen, I need your help,” you began, “I need the–” 

“The Sword of Gryffindor, yes. I see,” it sung to you, “I thought the day might come soon when I was needed for such a noble purpose again. But I did hope it might be in battle or conquest or something more grand than this. To hide away such a beautiful thing seems a pity, don’t you think?”

“I don’t have time for this! I just–” you began to rant but then you felt a knock on your head, hard and cold. And when you pulled off the hat, it smiled at you.

“Help is always given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it,” the hat said in what sounded like it was going to be the first lines of a new tune. But it stopped when you tipped it over.

You bend down to look into the long cone of fabric and at the very back you saw the shine of polished silver and an impressive cluster of rubies that could only be the hilt of the sword of a man as garish and courageous as Godric Gryffindor.

You reached deep into the hat and pulled out in a single smooth motion the giant broadsword, almost too long and heavy even for you. You examined the intricate silverwork, the sharpened edges, the perfect weight distribution. It really was a work of art, the perfect weapon. You moved to the wardrobe on the other side of the room, setting the sword underneath the boards for the bottom drawer, hidden in the depths. It would be a few days before you could bring the thing to Charlie to fly back and keep hidden with the Order for whenever Harry should need the thing again. Until then, you would need to keep it protected among your own possessions.

You were just replacing the last of the wood planks when a blast knocked open your bedroom door.

Headmaster Snape stood in the doorway, still wearing his heavy black travel robes. His hair was a muss against his face and his eyes were piercing, furious. You turned, falling on your rear at the base of your wardrobe, concealing as much of the sword as you could with your body. But it didn’t matter.

On instinct, not even processing your intruder, you flung your arm forward and shot a knockback jinx in his direction, which he swiftly dodged. He raised an eyebrow at your aggression, holding his wand in front of him in menace.

“Don’t make me take that thing away from you,” he hissed and at his command you lowered your wand, but only a little, ready to duel should the need arise.

Snape looked you over, and then at the hat. With a nod to you, he placed his wand in his pocket. He took two great strides towards your bed, picked up the hat and stuck his hand inside. You watched the bit of silver still sticking out of the wooden boards dematerialize, the particles pulling apart and vanishing in but an instant.

When you turned back to look at Snape, he held the hat still in one hand, its mouth moving in protest of being upside down, and the Sword of Gryffindor in his other, the end of it piercing slightly into the carpet of underneath your four-poster.

Before you could even utter a question from your place still on the floor, Snape spoke.

“You know, Dumbledore often said we sort too soon,” he mused, a smile almost pulling at his lips. Almost. “It seems we’ve both had reason to flex our bravery of recent. Come, L/N. I believe it is time we talk… candidly.”

You did your best to stand and straighten out your robes. Snape tossed you the Sorting Hat without a thought and with a flourish, he was out of the room.

You quickened your strides to catch up with him, finding him standing beside a statue you knew to be a secret passage between your floor and his. You had no idea anyone else but the twins and Harry new about these hidden tunnels, and so when Snape easily slipped behind and began his journey upward, you found your mind reeling with all the things you were now realizing had failed to fly under his radar.

As he uttered the password to the statue guarding his quarters, he finally turned to you. He waited for the statue to reveal the passageway and simply waved his hand, urging you inside before him.

You took a moment to assess his features. They were softened somehow, the anger gone. In a way he almost seemed relieved. You had no idea why and you were already considering all of your options regarding how to curse him and fly the coop, but hearing what he had to say seemed to be the best bet before taking any drastic measures. Besides, there were few wizards you knew who dueled as strongly as Severus Snape. Even if you needed to flee, there was no guarantee you would make it out alive.

You swallowed and entered. That was all you could do.

As you looked around the room at the portraits of the headmasters lining the walls as you made your way towards Snape’s desk. Some were sleeping and some were looking around for the source of the noise your footsteps made. But just as you sat down with the Sorting Hat comfortable upon your lap, you noticed the shelf along the south wall upon which still sat the Sword of Gryffindor, unmoved and unaltered by tonight’s proceedings.

You stared at the sword in complete confusion for several seconds. That shelf was definitely empty when you entered here just a little bit ago.

Snape had snaked his way behind you, making for his workspace. You heard the clank of metal upon his desk and looked to see the sword still in his possession. Two swords, each in the headmaster’s care.

“All your questions will be answered, L/N” Snape said as if reading your mind, “But first,” he continued, pulling a tiny vile from his shelf of potions just behind his desk filled with a liquid clear and runny like water and setting it in your palm, “You drink.”


	8. Part 8 - Veritaserum

“What’s your name?” you heard the long, drawn out voice boom from across the table. 

Without hesitation, you gave him what he asked for. And upon hearing the sound of your last name on your tongue, you paused and added, “soon to be Weasley.”

Snape raised an eyebrow at you, satisfied, if a little confused, by your answer. He took a small swig of the vial in front of him and flicked his wrist at you, asking you to proceed. 

“When did you begin your tenure at Hogwarts?” 

“September 1st, 1981, though I was hired on three weeks before that,” Snape blurted with a look of pure annoyance on his face. He slid the vial across the table to you and watched you take another sip. This one didn’t taste as bad as the first. It warmed your throat in a way you might describe as amusing. 

“What was the last thing your brother said to you before he died?” 

“Oh,” you said as you felt the path of liquid in your esophagus turn cold. You recalled that Snape had been in the room with Dumbledore when you recounted the story just after the opening of the final vault. He and only a handful of people knew what truly transpired in those chambers. Your chest tightened as you recalled it but still the words poured forth from your mouth, “‘Finish what I started, Y/N. This is bigger than us. I love you.’”

As you swallowed down you tears, you slid the vial once more over to Snape. He took his final sip before meeting your gaze once again. 

It took you a second to think of a question. You had wanted something similar to his, something he would know for sure that only you and maybe a few other people knew about him, something he couldn’t dismiss just to get you talking. Finally, you settled on a memory and closed your eyes to recall it with accuracy.

“What did Molly Weasley say to you after dinner our first night at Grimmauld Place?” 

You did your best to clear your mind as you watched his face contort in anger, just a little tightness of his mouth that quickly subsided. You wanted to make sure he wasn’t pulling knowledge from your head as he was wont to do upon occasion, but honestly this potion made you so light, you knew you couldn’t resist regardless. You just had to trust, which for the man in front of you was proving near impossible. 

“‘You can discipline my children as you see fit in your classroom, but here in this kitchen, eating my meals, my children belong to me, Severus. Do you understand? Harry, Y/N, and Hermione included’,” Snape said with no inflection, though your mind placed Molly’s snippy voice onto Snape’s words. You heard the elevation, the quickly snapped addition of your name onto the end as though she assumed you were included in the phrase “my children” but feared Snape may not see it that way. 

You laughed at the memory, right in your boss’s face, unable to contain your amusement at how Snape had tried to stand tall to the petite ginger woman, who was actively flinging a spoon covered in gravy in his direction. You recalled the dramatic way he wiped at the rue she tossed onto his nose. He gave a curt nod before leaving the room. When Molly finally realized you were there, she was quite apologetic, but honestly, knowing you had such a fierce woman on your side always made you proud. She was a force all her own, and raised a brood all of whom inherited just a bit of her fire. Some days you wished Charlie inherited just a little less. The way he was drawn to danger like a salmon swimming upstream was frustrating at times. But if that wasn’t the pot calling the kettle black, then nothing was. 

Snape scowled at you, waiting for you to control your laughter. 

“Are you done?” he finally asked as regained yourself. All you could do was nod.

Severus sealed the bottle with the cork once again and restored it to its meticulously selected place upon the potions shelf behind his desk. 

“Now, L/N,” Snape began, crossing his hands in front of him, “Tell me whom you serve?” 

“The Order,” you said without question, “And Harry Potter when the time comes.” 

“Why join with Lord Voldemort then?” he asked, pleased you were speaking.

“Moody’s idea. After you killed Dumbledore, we needed someone on the inside again. That someone could only be me… given Jacob and all,” you confirmed. 

“Stupid old man,” Snape muttered under his breath at your mention of Moody. He picked up his voice once more to say, “You were a sacrificial lamb. You know that, child?” 

“Yes, I do,” came from your mouth before you could think it. You hadn’t realized until then that you were just a pawn in the big game, that your death wouldn’t have stopped anything else in motion. Your success was a nice win, but not mission critical. You were a dart thrown blind. You just happened to score points. 

“And now that there is no Moony, what is your mission?” 

“Keep my head down, keep the children safe, pick up whatever knowledge I can to help Harry and the Order. … And to intervene in plans like that sword there.” 

“And how are you communicating with the Order? Owls? Floo? Is the Weasley girl giving you updates?” 

“No, no, no,” you rattled off without a thought, “I meet Charlie once a week in the Forbidden Forest to--” 

“For sex?” he asked in a way that was spitting with disgust. You immediately felt your face heating.

“Yes, and to exchange information,” you said in defense, and after a moment you added, “And to know that my love is safe.”

“No one is safe,” Snape spat. Something about your relationship was clearly angering him but you didn’t know what. Snape ran his hands through his hair a few times, ignoring you as he collected himself.

After a moment of awkward silence interrupted only by the light tapping of your fingers against the sorting hat in your lap, you spoke. 

“Are you going to tell him?” you said, with a draw on end that made it very clear whom you meant. 

The headmaster met your eyes once more, the anger on his face completely faded for some other emotion, something like regret but you couldn’t be certain.

“No.” 

“Why?” 

With a breath, he held his chin in his hands and faced you fully. He whispered, his voice heavy, “Because I don’t support Voldemort either.” 

You felt the air leave your lungs. Even in your state, you knew the weight of his words. Dumbledore was right to trust the man, even if you had a million questions. But the important thing was you were not alone in this. Harry had two on the inside, one trusted by the Order and one trusted by the “collective of evil” as Charlie had started calling them. 

“Oh, thank Merlin!” you breathed, tears filling your eyes in relief. On instinct, your hand reached forward for his, but he swiftly pulled it away.

“Don’t get too familiar, L/N,” Snape laughed, the first you’d ever heard from his lips, “What would Carrow say?” 

You were still laughing, “He really is a wanker, isn’t he?” 

To your surprise, a smile crossed Severus’s face as he assessed your statement, “Yes, him and that sister are quite thick. Easy to manipulate but ‘wankers’ indeed.”

It took several hours, and a few more swigs of the veritaserum to confirm that you both had your story straight. Snape explained about Dumbledore, about the Malfoys, and the promises kept. You explained about the break-up, about the Seven Potters, about the defensive magic you were subtly teaching the children. And after all the talking, all the planning on how you would best keep each other’s secrets and work as a team without suspicion, you only had one question remaining.

“Why are there two swords?” 

“The one on the wall in Dumbledore’s office has been a fake for years. After Harry used the sword in the Slytherin’s Chamber, Dumbledore decided the sword was of too great a value to leave so accessible. Dumbledore instructed me to make sure that the real sword is taken to Harry Potter. And so when Voldemort asked for the sword, I always intended to give him the fake,” Snape explained with ease, flicking his hands up to the sword on the wall, a mere decoration, though a perfect one.

“But it wasn’t here when I was in here early--” 

“I brought it to Voldemort but the vault isn’t ready yet.” 

You nodded in partial understanding, thinking over the details in your head. 

“How are you going to get the real one to Harry?” you asked as Snape stood, taking quick strides over to you to extract the hat and place it back in its proper location. 

“I honestly don’t know,” he said more to the hat than to you. The word honestly made you wonder if his potion had worn off. Your throat felt fine and your stomach heavier and so you decided to speak. 

“What’s your darkest secret, Severus?” 

“Don’t start with me tonight, curse-breaker.” 

You laughed, “Good, I was worried that stuff would last forever.” 

Snape turned to you again, his face serious once more. 

“L/N, what I said before still holds true. There will come a time when I call upon your skills. And I will need you to follow my lead. I have reason to believe that Hogwarts is of great importance to the dark lord, greater than we know. He must need something here. There is no other reason to keep around such a… liability.”

He doesn’t need to be more explicit. You know he means you and you know he is right. You nod, feeling the weight of the situation. 

“I’ll follow your lead, Severus, but we must get one thing clear,” you begin, waiting for Snape to acknowledge how serious you are. He tilts his head just a bit and you continue, “The children come first.” 

“I expect nothing less.” 

A giant banging and muddled footsteps interrupted your exchange. Snape quickly grabbed the sword and placed in under his desk as you turned to face the intruders. 

“Headmaster,” Amycus huffed, clearly out of breath, “The Longbottom boy was heading into that room again! I know he has a gang with him. You must come!” 

Snape huffed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, “And what were you doing exactly on the seventh floor when it isn’t your night to patrol?”

His face immediately turned red as his eyes raked over your figure. He didn’t need to say it. He was coming up to your rooms and your body chilled at the thought of it. 

“As the professor on patrol, L/N will handle the situation, Carrow. You are dismissed.”

“But--”

“I said out!” Snape snapped, his eyes near ferrel. Carrow was fleeing before Severus could even spit out the “t.” 

“If that maggot ever touches you--” Snape growled, but paused, taking a breath and staring at the ceiling. After a moment, he dropped his gaze upon you and continues, “I believe you know how to find the Room of Requirement? Perhaps this might be a way for you to ‘help the children’?”

You took a stabilizing breath at everything you needed to process. You took in Severus’s eyes once more. He was a confusing man, a man who cared for you but at the same time regarded you with mild contempt. You were an ally and a bother, a child and a colleague. You were all and nothing at one. But at least you weren’t the enemy anymore. 

 

You stood in the seventh floor hall. The sky outside the large windows was still pitch black and your exhaustion was finally getting to you. You took a breath, stared at the wall, and pictured the students: Neville and his gratitude that you were starting with classroom work instead of hands-on dangers, Colin and his eagerness to know all about your adventures, Luna’s natural instincts to see the beauty in the rarest and ugliest of beasts, and Ginny, your sister, your shadow, your friend. 

When you blinked open, a large wooden door stood in front of you, warm and inviting. You reached forward and turned the handle. 

Inside, a group of thirty or so students stood, all frozen with eyes on you. Their wands were in the air and they were paired off in dueling stances. Neville and Ginny stood at the front of the group, clearly leading the charge. Everyone was staring in shock at your presence as the door clicked shut behind you and disappeared. 

After a moment, the spell broke and Ginny ran forward, launching herself into your arms. As you hugged her tight, you watched the younger students begin to whisper amongst each other, unsure of what to make of the death eater professor being welcomed with open arms. 

Neville stepped forward and offered you his hand. 

“Scared us there for a minute. Thought you were Snape,” he said, and then added, “Don’t worry, we’ve been listening to Potterwatch.” 

You were glad you didn’t need to explain to him your position. 

“Thought you might be able to use a hand,” you said.

Neville let out a nervous laugh, “Desperately, Professor.” 

And so you move in front of the mass of students, all of whom were in tiny clusters now at the commotion. Most of the students are in their pajamas, clearly having snuck here in the dead of night. Most were older students, many of whom you knew from your classes, but the numbers were strong for a resistance, and definitely strong for the organization that had to be happening under the watchful gaze of the Carrows. 

You look over to Ginny and Luna, both of whom are smiling at your presence, and in them you find strength. 

You reached into your top and pulled out the long chain on which sat your engagement ring. You unclasped the chain and pulled off the ring, sliding it gently onto your left hand. You felt the weight it added to your hand and your heart tightened. This was right. In this room, in front of these children, you were going to be leave the entire facade behind. 

“Hi, everyone. I’m Y/N L/N, as many of you know, former Ministry auror under Mad Eye Moody, Hogwarts cursebreaker, and currently a spy for the Order among the death eaters,” you watch as those words set in among the students, increasing the murmuring. You wait for the voices to die down so you can add, “And I will be your new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.”


	9. Part 9 - The Astronomy Tower

“And with that, we conclude the Hogwarts update and tonight’s broadcast. We’ll be live again on Saturday, 11pm. Password: Wulfric. Support Potter and stay safe, friends.”

You clicked off your radio and fell back against your mattress. You were absolutely exhausted, your body drained and your eyes sunk. Three months it had been now since you and Snape came to an understanding. Three months of missing sleep to work with students in the Room of Requirement was taking its toll. But you would sacrifice every bit of sleep offered to you if it meant these innocent teenagers might survive the battle to come. And if Snape was right about something of value existing within the walls of the castle, that battle might very well come right to their doorstep sooner than you would hope.

You looked at the clock upon the nightstand: 12:30am. In ninety minutes you had to be back on the seventh floor to work with the fourth years and fifth years.

In order to avoid raising suspicions and to keep the classes a reasonable size, you divided the students into three groups - beginner, intermediate, and advanced - each of which met twice a week. You still had Monday nights free to see Charlie and the other six you spent trying to train up the children as best you could.

Tonight was counter-curses. With the youngest you have been focusing on spells for avoiding combat such as stuns and concealment charms. With this middle group, your focus was on assisting in combat: healing spells, counter-curses, disarming and shielding. And with the advanced group, you were able to properly duel, with all the jinxes and hexes in your arsenal. You even had a smaller group that stayed after the advanced class to work on non-verbal magic.

That was truly the best defense you knew from your years as an auror; don’t let the enemy know what is coming. Between non-verbal spells and strengthening your mind against invasion and control, you could survive almost anything these death eaters were going to send your way. If only these poor children didn’t need to have the skills akin to the best aurors in the world to give them a fighting chance…

You sighed and curled yourself around your pillows, debating whether to catch a few winks or get some work done. But as you hugged the soft fabric against your chin, you felt the lump under your pillow: one of Charlie’s sweaters from a few weeks ago, buried under your pillowcase to preserve the scent.

You pulled out the knit garment, running the soft fabric between your fingers, a texture you associated so acutely with your partner that it was almost as though he were in the bed beside you. You closed your eyes, took in the rich scent of honeysuckle embedded within each stitch, and allowed your mind to conjure his form. You ran the fabric against your cheek as you felt the phantom touch of his palm upon your shoulder and the slow run down your arm until it came to rest upon the curve of your waist. You felt his breath, hot and moist upon your neck. You heard the whispers that escaped his lips: “I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.” And with a smile on your face, you fell asleep.

The alarm woke you only a short time later. You took the sweater, a much more subdued one than the Weasleys often wore, this one a pleasant chestnut with white lettering. You pulled it over your head, surrounding yourself in the lovely support of your fiance, and placed on your engagement ring.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Everything about your appearance made it clear where you heart resided. You rolled up the sleeves, got your hair out of your face and smiled. And with a quick brew of some nice caffeinated tea, you made your way to your makeshift classroom, feeling proud of not just who you were but who you might be someday soon: a Weasley. As fierce as Molly, as curious as Arthur, as focused as Bill, as determined as Percy, as industrious as Fred, as clever as George, as loyal as Ron, as strong as Ginny. And worthy of love from someone as bold, caring, brave, and charming as your Charlie.

You could do this. Every day until the war was won, you could do this.

image  
The following day, as you walked from lunch to your classroom, you heard whimpers and the disgusting guttural laughter that you knew belonged to Alecto Carrow.

As you upped your pace, the sound turned into the ear-piercing screech. You began running until you nearly ran into Alecto in the fourth floor corridor, pinning a fifth year boy to the wall with her wand. His ears were bleeding and his eyes like saucers as he kicked and flailed to try and release himself from her sinister hold.

“Excuse me,” you called, pulling Alecto’s eyes towards you. No part of her made any effort to unhand the child. Her mouth just contorted into a sickly smirk.

“You are excused, Professor,” she hissed, “Feel free to be on your way.”

“And might I ask what this boy has done?”

You met the eyes of the kid, Thomas Avery if you recalled correctly. He had recently begun attending your hidden classes at the recommendation of Luna. He was a Ravenclaw but what he had in desire to learn he seemed to lack in instinct. And even now, as his eyes pleaded with you, you could tell he had no idea how to protect himself against the wicked creature before him.

“Just asking some questions, Y/N. What is it to you?”

You considering your words carefully as to not make it clear how disgusted you were with her. You took a few steps closer to her, dropping your voice in mock conspiracy.

“It is of importance that we do not have children screaming in the halls in the middle of the day, Alecto. You would not want a different professor stumbling upon you.”

“But there are quite a few ways to keep this boy quiet,” she hissed, twisting her wand in a way that might snap another person’s wrist. You watched Thomas gasp for air and only then did you realize what she had actually done to him. And instantly you saw red.

“Stop that right now,” you nearly yelled, slapping the wand from the woman’s hand and knocking her a foot or so back. Thomas fell to the floor, grasping his own throat and fighting for breath.

You began to pull out your wand as Alecto screamed, “Why, you bitch!” charging at you. But before you could get a spell up, you were hit with a stun which knocked you back several feet against the door to your classroom. You tried to move but your body was bound. You felt your body lift into the air, your arms extended like a crucifix. Immediately you closed your eyes and did what you needed to create a fortress in your mind.

When you opened them again, before you stood the disgusting figure of Amycus.

“Darling,” he hissed, running his long, bony fingers against your jaw, “You know I enjoy a catfight like any man but if you hurt my sister, you must know I will come for you.” He raised his wand once again and used it to lift your chin, pulling your eyes to him. When you met his gaze, he smirked and began running the tip of his wand down your neck, your sternum and lower.

As the tip of his wand began to collect the fabric at your hips, he whispered, “Such a precarious position you find yourself in, my sweet Y/N. What am I ever to do with you?”

Just as you felt the bile move into your throat at his subtle threat of sexual violence against you, you concentrated your energy to cast a spell without your wand. Problem was you could only move the magic through your hands and given your position, you had no means of attacking Carrow.

You took a stabilizing breath and with the exhale launched a huge rush of red sparks from your fingers, filling the hall in light and knocking straight into the status across, shattering it to a thousand shards like shrapnel ripping through the room. As Carrow went to cover himself, he lost concentration on his spell and you fell like a lump on the floor.

You felt yourself regain use of your hands somehow and looked over to see Thomas holding his wand in the air at you. At least the boy knew his counter charms.

“What is the meaning of all of this!” Snape boomed from the entrance to the corridor. You crawled over to Thomas to make sure he was okay.

When the dust settled, Snape found you beside the boy who was still trickling blood out of his ears and the Carrows shaking out pieces of stone from their clothes and fuming. He didn’t need a serious explanation.

You heard Snape mumbling under his breath, “In the goddamned daylight. Torturing students left and right. These vile animals.” He took a moment to collect himself before turning to you. “L/N, what happened.”

You lift your head to speak but Alecto interrupts you, “This little bitch thinks–”

Snape cut her off with a hand, not even bothering to look her way. “I would advise you to keep your mouth shut, Carrow, if you wish to keep it.” With a nod to you, Snape calls for you to speak.

“Professor Carrow thought it would be a good idea to question a student in the middle of the halls. I simply tried to dissuade her and Amycus attacked me.”

“And did he put his hands on you?” Snape asked.

You felt the bile in your throat once more. “Not his hands,” you whispered, but your tone made it clear that there wasn’t actually much difference. Snape sighed and nodded.

“Take Mr. Avery here to the infirmary, L/N,” Snape said to you and you alone. And as you stood, he added, “And thank you.”

You helped Thomas stand and led him quickly and cautiously away from the scene. By the time you got the stairs, you could hear Snape’s booming voice spitting curses at the fools who believed they had the freedom to abuse all those around them as they saw fit. And you felt the pain in the pit of your stomach at the realizing that they were right. 

image  
As you returned to your living quarters from dropping off Thomas, you shut the door behind you. You did your best to catch your breath. Every part of your body wanted to crumble. Every bit of you needed to allow the emotions to pour forth. You felt your eyes tense with unshed tears. You balled your fists at your side and were just about to let out a rather primal scream when a flash of white came bursting through the window beside your desk, blowing the essays you had to grade across the floor.

With a gasp, you fell back against the door, wiping out your wand to defend yourself.

The ball came to rest upon your desk. Quickly, the white orb unraveled itself, wings spreading over the length and flapping lightly against the oak legs. A neck, long and slender, stretched out over the work surface towards you. Its flat head presented itself for your inspection like a dog with two giant horns scraping the floor. And as you observed the mist rolling over the faux spines of the Romanian Longhorn, you smiled. It was not often that Charlie cast his patronus. Few had ever actually seen the rare beauty before you. You felt your heart easing at the sight. You were not alone in this.

The beast opened its mouth just a bit and out came the gentle voice you loved so, “Dragostea mea. Don’t come to the woods tonight. Meet me at the top of the Astronomy Tower just after sunset. And wear something nice if you like. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you whispered despite yourself. You knew Charlie couldn’t hear you but it didn’t matter. You needed to say the words, needed to feel how real they were after everything of this afternoon.

With a nod, as though it understood you, the dragon stood up upon its hind legs, flapped its wings until it took to the air a foot above your desk. And just as quickly as it appeared, it dematerialized, filling your room with white puffs and mist until the creature intermixed with the air around you and was no more.

You felt the absence of Charlie as though he had been there himself. You took a moment to consider the risks. But your heart was in control today. You raised your wand and pictured the first night you spent at the Burrow, when Charlie introduced you to his parents with such pride before sitting you beside him to share dinner. His arm never left its place slung over your shoulder as you joked with his siblings. You recalled the kisses that night when he snuck you into his bed, trying so hard not to wake up Bill as his touch had you giggling well into the morning.

“Expecto Patronum,” came out of your mouth without a thought, your eyes still closed.

When you opened your eyes, in front of you stood your Thestral, the form your patronus took after the loss of Jacob. You smiled at the creature whose head was tilted up towards you, ready to receive your words.

“I love you, Charlie. I’ll be waiting.”

With a flick of your wrist, you sent the creature out into the evening air to tell Charlie the words you needed him to hear.

image  
You leaned against the stone walls of the top of the Astronomy tower, looking out to the west to see the sun set just beyond the mountains, casting a halo of orange upon the hilltops. You shivered just a bit in the cold and wrapped your scarf more tightly against your neck. Any time now Charlie would be here. Since all of this started, he had yet to actually set foot in the castle. It seemed like too great of a risk. Part of you wondered what he had planned. You found yourself bouncing on your heels. Whether it was anticipation or the wind chill was unclear.

Just as the circle of the sun became a sliver on the horizon, a black form came into view, a person in shadow upon a broom, growing larger as it moved towards you. Charlie, your brain thought and you smiled. But then a second figure appeared beside the first and a third, all just silhouettes given the sun. You stumbled backwards just a bit in confusion, but on instinct pulled out your wand. You widened your stance to prepare for whatever was coming your way.

But then the sun set fuller and the figures drew closer, revealing the forms to you more: two heads of red hair shining in the final rays of day and the dark hair and silver-rimmed glasses that could only belong to your best friend.

Your pocketed your wand and ran to the end of the tower, watching the figures fly just over your head.

Charlie dropped his broom several feet before he should have, stumbling a couple steps before engulfing you in his embrace. He had you in his arm in seconds, spinning you like a giddy child not knowing his own strength. You clung tightly to his jacket, waiting for the world to stop spinning and laughing at the unbridled affection he always showed you.

“Y/N,” he breathed into your ear over and over like a prayer.

When he finally sat you down, you were able to speak.

“You just saw me Monday, silly.”

His face suddenly turned serious and his hand caught your chin.

“A day apart is too many, love,” he said before kissing you gently on the lips.

“My turn,” Rowan called from over Charlie’s shoulder, gently shoving him out of the way.

Charlie huffed and moved aside to allow Rowan access to you. You opened your arms for the hug, shaking your friend you hadn’t seen in almost a year.

“I’ve missed you,” Rowan said, which made you laugh. It was slightly absurd, this war, the way it was keeping you from the people you loved. But you knew you could go years without seeing Rowan and nothing would change.

“Me too.”

Your exchange was interrupted by Bill’s arm coming to rest upon your shoulder.

“Come on. All the pleasantries later. I’m ready for another sibling!”

You lifted an eyebrow in surprise. You hadn’t even questioned the why regarding Rowan and Bill’s presence. You peered over Rowan’s shoulder at Charlie, who was digging in the bag attached to his broom. Out he pulled two tiny ring boxes but paused when he felt your eyes on him.

As if reading your mind, he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I couldn’t wait any longer. And we needed witnesses.” He took a few steps towards you, opening the box to show you a beautiful plaited gold band, one that would wrap up and over your engagement ring forming a single unit upon your finger. He opened the second box to reveal another ring with a similar design, just a little larger to fit his more robust finger. “What do you say, love? Marry me today?”

Your fingers reached out to run across the beautiful metal. “Norberta?” you asked, ignoring his questions.

He laughed, “Only the best for my spouse.”

“Yes. Of course, yes.”

His lips were open you before you could even finish the worlds. You laughed against his mouth. And just as you began to lean into him, you felt Rowan’s hand on your shoulder.

“Save it for the honeymoon,” Rowan said with a laugh.

You felt your heart sink a little, “There won’t be a honeymoon.”

Charlie, catching the sadness in your voice, reached out for your wrist. “I think we can opt for a room at the Three Broomsticks tonight. Madam Rosmerta has kept a few secrets for us over the years. I’m sure she won’t mind one more.”

You squeezed his hand in understanding.

Charlie led your forward towards the beautiful stone landing that overlooked the valleys and hills beyond the castle. He positioned himself in front of you and took your fingers all within his, though that only lasted a moment before he was reaching up to rub any stray hairs out of your face.

“You’re amazing,” he said as he ran his hands down your cheek in adoration.

You laughed, “Those are you vows? And you’re the one who had time to prepare–”

“That bad?” Charlie interrupted you, “Don’t worry. I wrote up something better.” He pulled out a stack of parchment from his pocket and handed it to Bill who took up his spot between you two, his back to the half-wall. Rowan stood beside you, offering you a smile as Bill unrolled the paper.

Bill cleared his throat, lights the tip of his wand, and began to read the words Charlie had prepared. They were beautiful and filled with love but honestly you couldn’t care less what they were. You were too focused on the gentle touch of Charlie’s fingertips against your palms, the beautiful blush upon his cheeks, blending with his freckles in a lovely patches of kissable skin, the half-smiles he offered you every now and then as Bill mentioned something about your love that you doubted he had ever shared with his brother before.

“…A wedding is a celebration of a commitment already made in the heart,” BIll said, pulling you from your daze, “A public declaration of the promises of private moments. Now, it is time for you to exchange your vows and breath to life those promises so that you might see to them as couple for as long as you both shall live. Charlie?”

You looked up into the eyes of the man you loved, twinkling at you as they absorb what little light remains around you. You felt Charlie breath more than heard it as he rubs at your palms, trying to draw strength from you.

“Y/N,” he began, his breath shaking, “Ten years ago, I watched you land in the Forbidden Forest for the first time. You smiled at me and let out a little laugh, completely dismissive of our danger. I remember you gave me a hug and thanked me for my help. My fifteen-year-old heart learned what love was that day. And it has learned more every day that I have been by your side. I promise to continue to learn how to love you best, to stay with you and support you no matter what comes our way, and to protect you at all costs. I’ll do my best to make you laugh and smile and comfort you in tough times. And every day I will tell you just how much I love you. I want to build a life with you. One that isn’t all death and danger. I want to grow old with you. And I promise I’ll do everything in my power to make that our reality.”

He pulled your hands forward and kissed your knuckles. You found yourself crying and for the first time in a long while it wasn’t in stress or fear. You would grow old with this man, sacrifice life and limb to see him happy. How you got so lucky you’d never fully understand. But now wasn’t a moment to question.

You took a breath as you wiped the tears off your face.

“Charlie,” you said, looking into the soft blue eyes you knew too well. But then he smiled at you and you lost it completely. “I’m so sorry I ever lied to you. We’re a team and we’ll always be a team. And I promise I will do everything in my power to make sure we never separate again. You were right. This war, all this death and fighting, means nothing if I don’t have you on the other side. I will fight for us, every day for the rest of my days. I will protect you with all the strength in my body. I will make sure you feel loved and treasured and adored the way you deserve.” You paused to wipe at your tears once more. “I just love you, okay? I’m yours come what may. And my future is with you. I’ll make sure of it. At all costs.”

Charlie smiled at you, rubbing his hands across your knuckles as you collected yourself. His eyes too were shining with unshed tears but he was more joy than sadness. You felt the weight of winning this war so strongly at that moment that you simply couldn’t keep the waterworks at bay. Rowan beside you handed you a tissue as the tears began to roll down your chin.

You rubbed at your face and tried your best to smile at your soon-to-be husband. Charlie just let out a low chuckle.

“Think you can spare a hand so we can make this official?” he asked, taking the ring Bill held out for him.

You went to laugh, but only spit air. You held your hand out for Charlie, who swiftly slide the band down your fourth finger, securing it with the other bit of gold already there. You inspected your finger, an interlocking chain of white and yellow gold braiding upon your digit, like the knots that tied together your heart with the man across from you. You felt the tears begin to subside. Like a braid, you were stronger than the individual fibers that made the shape. You and Charlie were stronger together, a union that built you up and made you soar. This was the final step in your journey to becoming the conquering force that you needed to see this war to an end. You and Charlie, side by side, as you always should be.

You took the ring Bill held out for you and slid it down upon Charlie’s outstretched finger. It looked strange upon his tanned skin, so foreign compared to the burns and scars you were used to seeing there. But you liked it, the sight of something new. This was a beginning for each of you, marked as much physically as it was in your soul. Once the ring was secure, Charlie’s hands found yours again, but the current you were used to feeling between the two of you had somehow strengthened, like your connection was a conduit for a new kind of electricity. You felt the strength within you grow and you looked up at the night sky, feeling the rightness of the universe for the first time in a long time.

“Under the watchful eyes of Merlin, may the bond that is forged today never be broken,” you heard Bill say. “You may kiss.”

And as your eyes came back down to take in your husband, his hand yanked you forward against his chest and his lips found yours in a perfect, blissful, and unifying kiss.


	10. Part 10 - The Battle of Hogwarts

News of the break-in at Gringotts had just reached you when you received a summons from Snape. You had been on your way to the seventh floor corridor to check on the group of students you had helped lock inside the Room of Requirement in an effort to protect them from the increased cruelty of the Carrows. Angered, the siblings had worked out a patrolling schedule with you for the corridor to try and catch the students trapped within. You counted your blessings for their stupidity every day. In this whole mess, you were glad there were at least still a few benefits of being a believed death eater. 

You left the food you smuggled from the kitchens courtesy of Pitts at the door and knocked the rhythm you and Neville had worked out to let him know it was you and not violent death eaters. It was your favorite Weird Sisters song that you’d dance to late at night in Ginny’s room during your many Burrow sleepovers, and even just hearing the beats against the wrecked wood of the hidden chamber had you just a little hopeful.

By the time you made it to the headmaster’s quarters, only a few minutes had passed, but the room was in complete shambles. Snape was a wreck, like he hadn’t bathed in several days, though you were curious as to how you could tell the difference given his usual appearance. He turned with the lightning quick reflexes of a cheetah, raising his wand and charging at your intrusion. Within moments, you were pinned against the wall, his wand taunt against your neck as he snarled at you.

“What’s your last name?” he growled.

You swallowed, trying to regain your composure at being pressed against the hard stone walls with force, knocking the air from your lungs.

At your hesitation, Snape pushed even further into you.

“What’s your last name, Professor?”

“We- Weasley,” you managed. You met his eyes as your lungs filled once again, “My name is Y/N Weasley, Severus.”

You watched his eyes soften at your attention, his wand hand falling once again to his side as he stepped back.

Without even an acknowledgement of the aggression he had just shown you, he turned back to his desk and spoke as he retreated.

“Harry is coming.”

“To Hogwarts?” you asked, picking up your pace to follow him to his desk.

“Looking for the Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem, it seems,” he added as he continued to shuffle through papers on his desk. “But after the attack on Bellatrix’s vault last night, there is no doubt the dark lord knows of his pending arrival. We must hide everything, and I mean everything, before we are summoned.”

“We?” you asked, trying your hardest to follow his ramblings. 

He paused his hands on a stack of parchment, turning slowly to meet your gaze.

“Yes, we,” he hissed in your direction, “We are not on Harry’s side in all of this, at least not tonight. Or had you forgotten with all the freedoms I’ve afforded you.”

You felt the slap across the face that Snape intended with his words. You had not been called to Voldemort’s side in quite some time as things at Hogwarts were too important to pull the essential staff away, in the words of your lord. You only had to keep up the act in front of the Carrows and a handful of loyal students. Maybe you had forgotten your place…

With a breath, you said, “Tell me what to do.”

Snape managed what could only be called a smile at you.

“The Sorting Hat,” he began, still digging deep through the mess of his desk, “Take it and hide it somewhere only Fawkes might find it. That sword, the real sword, can’t be discovered.”

“And the sword itself?” you asked.

“Buried in the wall. The only way anyone is getting it is through that hat,” he said, not looking at you.

You nodded, feeling you heart rate raising at the battle you knew would be at your doorstep in a handful of hours, maybe sooner. You were ready. Anything for Harry and to see this thing to its end.

Anything for your husband, whom you hadn’t seen in almost a month as he worked his way through Europe rallying forces for your cause. Once you had used the floo network in Snape’s office just to see the silhouette of his face in the embers. But all you got as a, “hello, beautiful,” before something ripped him away from you.

As you stood to move behind the desk to grab the hat, already muttering at the inconvenience of being moved, Snape spoke once again.

“I’m trusting you, Y/N. You and you alone. I doubt I will survive tonight. And I need to know that when the time comes, you will do what is necessary–”

“Severus, don’t,” you began but he cut you off with a hand.

“We’ll need that sword. We’ll need that diadem. We’ll need whatever god-forsaken shit this bastard has hidden in this castle to use as weapons against him. I’ll need you to tell him he’s your god and keeper before slitting his throat from your place beside him. Be smart, Weasley. Finish what Jacob started.”

Hearing him mimic your brother’s final words to you put a weight like no other on your shoulders. Your stomach tightened but you turned to stone with it, the hardened warrior Moody had trained you to be. You were the willing pawn in this game, the sacrificial piece that would open the path for the checkmate. You were, as you knew from the beginning, the only one who could do this. You were Medusa, raped in your temple and protected by the curse they gave you. You were ready to let the snakes strike and give the vengeance such evil deserved. You would willingly lose your head if you knew Pegasus would rise in your downfall.

You grabbed the hat, tucking it under your arm before it could continue to comment on the rather rude state of affairs that had been the past several minutes, and left the headmaster’s chambers without a single word.

image  
You paced in your classroom with the sorting hat upon your desk. You spoke out loud, more for your benefit than that of the hat, though it did continue to provide a few insights as to where it would like to be placed.

“I can’t place you in the final vault. Fawkes can’t swim.”

You drummed your wand against your thigh as you allowed your brain to do the work.

“You know, a lovely shelf would be nice. Maybe someplace high. A bookshelf perhaps,” the Sorting Hat mused.

“No, we can’t do the Vault of Fear. The library is bound to be one of the first places the death eaters take the fighting. Lots of places to hide and cover.”

“Hang me on a wall perhaps? Something with a nice view?”

You stopped your pacing, thinking he may have sparked an idea, but immediately you lost it.

“Of course I can’t hide you in a painting,” you sighed, “Even if I could work that level of dark magic, I’d never be able to get you back out.”

You threw yourself down on your bed, racking your brain about everything you knew about the castle. You were expert on this place, on every hidden passage and on every secret alcove. You know how to unlock rooms that others could never find, to access dark recesses that kept even the most knowledgeable of wizards alluded. You were the keeper of Hogwarts greatest secrets.

“… You have the right of it, Y/N. We should just stay here and relax. Four more months until another sorting. Why all the fuss?”

Stay here… secrets… dark recesses…

You bolted upright, hugged the Sorting Hat to your chest in appreciation and ran up the stairs two at a time, sure of your next steps for the first time in many months.

image  
“Duncan! Duncan!” you called as you busted into the Prefect Bathroom, sliding on the polished marble and nearly face-planting into the elaborate sculptures that surrounded the sinks.

“Duncan!” you screamed again and you turned towards the toilet stalls.

You sucked in breath as a shadow passed through you, coming to rest with a lazy ease on the edge of the bathtub.

“Gosh, Y/N, calm down. You’re getting as jumping as Myrtle these days,” the ghost of Duncan Ashe said to you as the cold wind he had caused began to turn once more to the refreshing warmth of the heated lavatory.

“Duncan, you’ve been all over this castle, right? Through all the floors and ceilings and stuff?”

He heard the rush of your tone and seemed to move his eyes across you like he was seeing you for the first time since you entered. His eyes rested on the Sorting Hat in your arms.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, his voice dropping a little, “I get bored. I wander. What do you need?”

“Is the Chamber of Secrets still closed from when Harry opened it a few years back.”

Duncan laughed, “So closed that the scent of rotting snake makes it most unbearable. I flew threw it once by accident. Absolutely horrible.”

“Yes!” you cheered, turning to run out of the bathroom. As you made it to the door, you called to Duncan behind you, “Can you follow me?”

You only heard Duncan chuckle behind you, “There’s the L/N spirit I’ve been missing,” as you felt the rush of wind that let you know he was wiping with you down the hallway.

image  
You were just outside Myrtle’s bathroom when you ran into Minerva. She was walking with steady step towards the Great Hall, clearly having heard the news about Potter’s impending arrival. All she needed is to see you, Duncan, and the hat to put the pieces together.

“Where?” she asked.

“The Chamber of Secrets,” you said, searching her eyes for approval.

She nodded and began to take quick steps, but turned to you as if having a second thought.

“Might I advise,” she said to you, looking at you seriously over her glasses, “That you flee the castle once this task is done. I’m unsure the other Professors would take too kindly to your… presence.”

“I will, Professor.”

“I’m rooting for you, Y/N,” she says with such finality that you feel as if you’ve been dismissed officially.

And just then you feel the burning on your arm, the summons you hoped wouldn’t come for at least an hour more. You still needed to check on Neville, to touch base with Snape again and help with the rest of the castle’s preparations, to try to thwart any schemes that Carrows had to make taking the castle easier. You knew you only had a bit before the burning became unbearable.

Duncan swooped passed you into the girl’s bathroom and with it you found the strength to press on.

image  
You ignored Myrtle’s protests as you entered the stall across from her own. The lid was broken and the door falling off, true signs of the secret that hid below.

You pulled the Sorting Hat from you chest and watched his mouth move in protest at the deplorable conditions, but nothing was quite as intense as the yelling that came from his throat when you dunked him in the water.

“Sorry, bud,” you said to the gargling mass of fabric as you pressed down the handle to flush the hat away. You peaked your head out the stall to see Duncan diving down through the floor, following the trail of flowing water deeper and deeper into the recesses of the castle.

You heard a hiccup behind you and turned to see Myrtle crouched on top of her toilet.

“How come no one comes to visit me anymore?” she whined between tears.

“Myrtle, bad stuff is coming to the castle. I know you don’t want to but it may be best to leave this bathroom. Go with Duncan and the other house ghosts and find a part of the castle to hang out until this is over. Wouldn’t it be nice to have some friends for a while?”

Myrtle screamed at you, “So you’re saying I don’t have friends! Harry Potter is my friend!”

You sighed, “And Harry Potter is coming back to Hogwarts to save us all, including you. Go with Duncan and maybe you’ll see Harry again?”

Myrtle hiccuped, “Ha-Harry?”

“Yes, Myrtle.”

Just as your arm started to burn once more, Duncan floated up again from the sinks.

“Safe and sound in the Chamber, though screaming up a storm about the bloody mess.”

You sighed in relief and felt your arm sting intensify, like your limb was detaching from your body. You fell to your knees in pain, clutching at your arm. You had ignored your master for too long. You needed to leave immediately.

You stood and stumbled towards the door, managing to utter a rushed, “Thank you, Duncan,” before making it to the door.

You heard Myrtle ask about Harry just as the door was closing and a minute later felt two spirits pass through you and down into the dungeons. 

image  
You thought you might not be able to walk anymore by the time you reached the outskirts of the castle. The pain was so intense you were unsure whether you would be able to concentrate your mind to apparate to the source. You fell against the gravel on the outskirts of Hogsmeade and closed your eyes, envisioning the dark lord’s call, feeling his hatred filling you blood with need to be united. You hated the darkness such a mark instilled in you. Reflecting on the destruction of the impurities of the world filled your chest with putrid lightness. But with that clarity, you apparated away towards the summoning power of your dark commander.

Your body did not have far to go. You reconstituted much quicker than you expected, just a mile or so outside Hogsmeade proper, in the community graveyard that was already filled with many hooded figures, each circling around Voldemort, looking more deranged than you had ever seen it. A few feet from you stood Severus, still in his nice robes and clearly biting at the inside of his check. There was a bruise already forming upon his neck and you wondered what sort of danger he encountered upon making his leave.

It took you a moment to realize that light feeling had left you, being replaced with the vague darkness that could only be described as true and pure emptiness. A quick glance overhead revealed dementors circling, somehow coming closer and closer to you which each spin.

Voldemort’s eyes shot up at their aggressive prowling and with a wave of his hands, the cloaked non-beings moved ever higher in the sky, like kites denoting the sick joy of tonight’s occasion.

“My friends,” Voldemort called from his place atop an unnamed gravestone, “It seems some of you may be experiencing a great joy at tonight’s events, enough to draw the attention of our loyal compatriots above.”

A few members of the group laughed and those carrying torches raised them in the air to symbolize their agreement.

“This all ends tonight! With one last charge, we recover what has been taken from us…”

Voldemort’s words were drowned out by the cloaked figure that shuffled up beside you.

“Excited to execute those traitorous ex-in-laws of yours?” Bellatrix asked with a sing-song tone like battle was the same as ballet, “Merlin knows what I’d give to have another go at my cousins. Bloody fools the lot of them. Same days I wish I hadn’t killed Sirius so I could still be torturing the vile bastard.”

She was laughing with each disgusting line she spat, but you had no problem laughing along.

“Everyone will pay for what they did to Jacob and me,” you said, relying on the truth of your words to aid in the venom. “I’ve never been more excited to see those who deserve to die do so.”

Voldemort continued, “Harry Potter shall be no more and tomorrow will dawn a new beginning–”

“Justice,” she hissed beside you, “Justice is nice. But vengeance is much sweeter, darling.”

You cheered collectively with the group, only a little behind the queue words that came from your leader.

“Just wait,” Bellatrix said, “I’ll save a Weasley for you.”

image  
The first half of the battle was harrowing. You found yourself fighting alongside many people who knew your true loyalties. You were the death eater that Order members dueled when they needed to recover. And your non-verbal magic allowed you to cast a few healing spells on your opponents while sending back and forth.

You had managed to repair a few slashes in George’s arm, help Minerva get the cover she needed to cast a few shields charms, heal a concussion Penny had received towards the start of the battle, and even had a rather fun and convincing spar with Bill that took you from the Great Hall all the way to the Black Lake.

By the time Bill and you had made it far away from the watching eyes of any other death eaters, he dropped his wand at his side and ran to you, pulling you into a hug.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

“No, no,” you managed to breath, catching your breath from all the running, “Exhausted but fine. Are you–”

“All good,” he said with a light chuckle, wrapping you in a familial hug once again.

Your mind had been so consumed with managing to do as little harm as possible that you hadn’t a moment to process what this all meant.

“Where’s Charlie?” you asked, the first critical question that came to your mind.

“Flying from France with back-up,” Bill assured you. “Probably over the midlands by now.”

You huffed in response. You knew you should be happy that he was safe but every single part of you wanted to see him before you. You had just witnessed handfuls of people die as a result of killing curses, torture, trauma and accident. You just needed to see him in the flesh, to see the color in his cheeks and the light in his eyes to know everything would be okay.

Your eyes scanned across the lake as Bill took a seat. This was the spot where you kissed Charlie for the first time after you received this painful brand across your forearm. This was the place where you started the journey that brought your brother to his end and put the magic into the world to see Voldemort’s return. This was the place where so much good and bad constantly came together in whirlwind of emotion. This place.

“Will we make it through tonight?” you asked, not necessarily to Bill but to the earth and stars and power of the universe.

“Have we ever not?” Bill asked.

You took a moment to think, “Sometimes things are, and then they aren’t. We win. We lose. It doesn’t matter who is right or wrong. It just matters who makes the move when necessary.”

“Then be the one to make the move, Y/N.”

You looked over to see Bill now standing only a few feet away from you. His eyes were soft as they looked down on you with the kind of love only decades of friendship could breed.

“Make the move.”

You felt it then. You felt the rush of adrenaline that had always accompanied you into the vaults, out into the field as an auror and even within the bounds of this castle the last year. You felt the call, as Moody called it, the pull in your soul to cast the first spell, to break down the first door, to let the snakes strike.

But just then you heard the call of the ceasefire and the crunching of feet through the fallen leaves of the forest as the death eaters began to assemble in the clearing where you fell in love with the man who gave you his name.

With a nod to your brother-in-law, you dashed into the forest, determined to make your move.

image  
“Harry Potter. The boy who lived,” Voldemort breathed as all eyes in the clearing turned to the boy who stood tall and confident at the edge of the tree line.

If your special place had not already been desecrated by this evil around you, you would have been in so much pain at the battle to come. Your hand instinctively found your wand in your pocket as you took in the heavy breathing of Narcissa beside you. Not a single death eater spoke, trying to take cue from their lord.

But Harry didn’t move or waiver. His eyes simply scanned the crowd, stopping only the briefest moment on your face, not enough to draw the intention of anyone else. He met your eyes and nodded, a sign to stand down. You had no idea what he meant but you knew you needed to trust him. That was the mission after all, blind faith in Harry Potter, even if every bone in your body was repeating what Bill had just told you.

Your move would show itself.

“Avada Kedavra!” 

Green light filled the grove, illuminating parts of the trees that even you hadn’t seen. It seemed to radiate heat like fire, but leave only cold in its wake. Your heart clenched at the words and you ripped your wand from your pocket but you did not strike. It was too late.

As the light died, Bellatrix let out a loud laugh and began clapping. No one else dared to even breath. It seemed so anti-climatic with Harry slumped in a pile on the ground, enemy number one eliminated. Years of work ended.

But then you recalled the simple movement of the chin. Harry had wanted this.

Voldemort silenced Bellatrix with a wave of the hand and called Narcissa forward.

“We must confirm the death,” he said to her with a wave of the hand. But as Narcissa began to move towards the body, you too moved your feet.

“I did not ask you, Y/N,” Voldemort hissed.

Both you and Narcissa stopped in your tracks. You felt the rage of his gaze upon you, somehow still feral despite his greatest achievement having just occurred. The hairs on your arms raised at the inspection but you affected your voice to show the coolness you knew you needed.

“Would you really just such a task to the likes of a traitorous Malfoy?” you spit, “I’m simply wish to keep her honest… Unless we’d rather leave such things in doubt.”

His lip twitched at your questioning, like a viper readying to strike. You thought for a moment your loyalty may not be enough for him, like he might launch the same curse at your form for stepping out of turn. Months of effort all came to this moment.

But nothing came. He simply raised a hand to motion you both to keep moving forward.

Slowly you both stepped forward, only the crunch of the leaves making a noise. You looked down at the body of your loyal leader, still just a child but bigger than you when you endured similar trials at the hands of this castle. And like you, he had help. You sighed at the sight but only so Narcissa could hear.

She crouched beside the body and placed a hand on his chest. You followed her lead, leaning forward so your mouth was close to his ear, like you were listening for breathing.

“Got what you wanted, Harry?” you asked. You watched Narcissa’s fingers grab at the fabric of Harry’s shirt, clearly shocked at your words.

A moment passed. And then another. What felt like minutes went by waiting for Harry to move or say something. You worried you had been wrong. You felt the bile building inside you at the thought that you hadn’t intervened. But Dumbledore, Moody, and even the absent Snape would have told you to follow Harry’s leave. But that felt so stupid now.

Just as the tears were building in your eyes, Harry’s eyes flickered a little under their lids and you heard the faint grunt of affirmation. You patted his shoulder to let him know you understood, trying your best to hid your smile.

Narcissa looked to you for guidance and you brushed your hand against hers. She was a good woman underneath it all, stuck in a horrendous situation. You knew she wouldn’t waste this moment.

“Is Draco still alive?” she asked so soft you worried Harry would miss it.

“Yes,” he managed, impressing you with how little he moved.

“The boy is dead,” Narcissa shouted over her shoulder to the crowd of death eaters, all of whose eyes then immediately turned to you.

You made eye contact with the leader whose life pursuit was to see the boy before you dead and with a genuine smile upon your lips and a hand on Harry’s shoulder which was rising and falling shallowly with his breathing, you nodded in confirmation.

image  
“Harry Potter is dead!” Voldemort called with great joy to the the crowd of crying and screaming onlookers exiting the castle and entering the courtyard. You still stood you allegiance beside the lord who marked you, next to the Murks and the Malfoys, in a position towards the front, in full view of the few who now doubted you were ever loyal to them to begin with.

Molly’s eyes shot to you, as did George’s. The Weasley family was glaring at you with the deepest pain in their faces, true hopelessness from everyone by Bill and Ginny. In Ginny’s face you saw only fight, that determined look you knew so well as the only thing necessary to stay alive in times like this. And Bill, who mouthed you a question, the words of which you couldn’t make out but the idea you understood. You shared a nod and Bill stood firm, the only one to trust that you had not betrayed Harry by not choosing to die beside him.

As Voldemort continued his speech, your eyes were only on Harry in Hagrid’s arms. He still hung slack, dead to any watching eye. You wondered if he was waiting for your move instead of you for his. You waited.

You watched Fawkes fly overhead and drop the Sorting Hat to Neville. Voldemort continued his speech but still you waited.

You watched the hat you had hidden so well go up in flames, all of your hard work gone to nothing. But still you waited.

And then it happened. The roar overhead that you knew could only be the man you loved and the army he led. You saw broom zoom high in the sky over the astronomy tower, a flash of red and white as Charlie used his wand to guide those who flew behind him. A boom of footsteps behind you let you know the ground offensive was on the move. And in Hagrid’s arms, you saw Harry reach inside his own pocket.

“L/N, on the offensive!” Amycus called behind you.

But as you watched Charlie fly so deftly above you, you recalled so many broom rides you had shared above these castles. You felt his back against your chest as you held tightly to him as you soared across the expansive of the castle grounds. You recalled the wind in your face as you rushed forward to take chase some creature Charlie was determined to study. You could hear his voice, “hold on, love,” as he held your fingers against his ribs before rocketing into the air. And in that you felt not the fight you needed to survive tonight but the love you needed to win the thing.

“Actually,” you said, turning your gaze to the sadistic man beside you, “It’s Weasley, now.”

You pulled out your wand and readied your feet for battle before screaming out, “Harry, go!”

As Harry cast the first spell and leapt from Hagrid’s arms, you mustered all the strength in your body and screamed, “Stupefy!” Carrow was unprepared and launched backwards into the stone pillar behind you, yards off, and cracked his head against the stone with a violent crunch. The world erupted into the chaos.

image  
Hours later and with much destruction behind you, the battle was won. You sat in the Great Hall staring out as the bodies came to rest. A few tables away, the Malfoys sat awkward but reunited. Narcissa smiled at you once before turning her attentions back to her son. Before you sat the body of one of your dearest friends, Tonks, a woman who hadn’t had the privilege of seeing in these long months stuck in the castle. You took in her flat stomach and realized that somewhere in the world her baby must be sleeping, waiting desperately for her return.

You couldn’t stop the tears. There was nothing else to do but cry. You found your moment. You helped Harry. You attacked and fought and used the tools they gave you. You looked over towards the other end of the hall and saw a large group of students, most of whom you assumed were at this battle without approval but all of whom you had taught to protect themselves. They were working together to heal each other’s wounds, with Neville at the center still holding the Sword of Gryffindor your efforts had managed to gift him. 

Twenty faces not yet adults. Twenty faces you had saved. Twenty children who would return home. Whether they’d have anyone to return to was another question.

“Y/N,” you heard from the doorway and before you knew it a head of Harry was buried deep in your chest.

“Ginny!” you cried, holding your little sister with such reverence. Not that you doubted she would make it. She was a fighter through and through.

“I’d move over Ginny before Charlie starts a fight,” you heard Bill say. Your eyes were closed trying to enjoy the feel of your family once more.

“Another fight you mean,” you heard the voice of Charlie just a few feet away, “I fought all day for Y/N. All year, really.”

You pulled yourself from the embrace of Ginny to see the shining blue eyes of your spouse upon you. His hair was longer and his beard fuller than the last time you saw him and he had a deep gash in his shoulder that was already bandaged. But wounds were nothing new for him and, if you were honest, they made him all the more handsome. Your rugged, strong, courageous fighter had led the charge and come back to you.

“I love you.”

You smiled, “I love you, too.”

You felt a hand on your shoulder and looked up to see Harry, bruised and shaken but unharmed.

“Thank you,” he said, “For everything.”

You only had time to nod before he took Ginny’s hand and pulled her up to him. Almost immediately as his sister cleared, Charlie’s hands were on your cheeks and his lips were upon yours, slow and patient and filled with love. His lips were sweet somehow despite the sweat and dirt, like a piece of candy you had forgotten in your pocket. He was a source of joy and rightness and just as you were beginning to feel dizzy, he pulled himself away. 

He whispered against your lips in your haze, “How about we follow their lead, huh?”

You kissed him again in confirmation, allowing all of his love to take you and drown away the pain and fear and sadness that was this room and this day and this life you lived for nine months. And so your husband took your hand and led you out of the hall.

image  
You stood atop the Astronomy Tower, looking out on the Forbidden Forest as you held Charlie’s hand. Your ran your fingers against his palm, feeling every callous and memorizing every groove. Never again would you allow anything to take this man away from you. Never again would you wake up away from him if Merlin allowed it. And never again would you be driven apart by duty or service or obligation. You were a unit. What was his was yours and the other way. A duty for one was a duty for both and together you would tackle whatever this new world would bring, after you mourned the ones you lost.

“You remember what I said when you left my cabin that night?” he asked, pulling you in front of him so he might hold your waist as you watched the sun rise over the mountains.

“‘If we win this war and I don’t have you on the other side, we won’t have won at all?’” you asked.

And as the first true rays of sun broke through, denoting a new day and a new beginning for the entire wizarding world, your husband ran his fingers over your wedding ring and bent forward to kiss your neck.

“We’ve won, my love.”

You felt a smile pull at your lips.

“Yes, we won.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for coming on this journey with me. I am working on an epilogue, but will only be posting it on my tumblr (@ardentmuse). I post all of my writing over there, so feel free to come join the fun if you liked this one! Cheers.


	11. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One year later

Sunlight shone through the window panes, casting streaks of light across the down comforter under which you and Charlie still laid intertwined, clinging to each other and avoiding the inevitable start of yet another day. As the sun grew higher in the sky, the shafts of light crept closer and closer to your eyes, closed in false sleep. The light was catching at Charlie’s hair, illuminating the tiny space between your bodies with a kaleidoscope of reds, yellows and bronzes, like fireworks for your pillows. You felt your hand come up to brush at the hairs before you even knew you were doing it.

“G’mornin’,” Charlie mumbled at the feel of your fingers. It was hard to make out the words with how quickly he tugged on your waist to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

You lifted your head to look around Charlie’s small cabin. You recalled another time, almost exactly a year ago, when you were reclined in bed like this, with Charlie’s head against your chest and the sun informing you of your need to leave. It was the darkest day of your life in some ways, leaving Charlie behind to dive towards likely death. But today, as you looked at the empty bookshelves and the stacks of boxes all marked for delivery to your new homes, you found yourself smiling; one last day enjoying the feel of your husband in this secluded place, the place where you learned to love him so deeply, the place that hurt so much to leave because you were never sure when you would return to his side again, a place that was Charlie’s alone, no matter how much he opened his life and his heart to you. You were only a little sad to see it go.

“We have to go soon, Charlie,” you said into his hair when you estimated the sun had reached its peak in the sky.

“Just one more hour,” he whined, wrapping his legs around you in a grip so tight you couldn’t leave if you wanted to, his muscular thighs securing you in a way that you wouldn’t have minded had he intended something more with it.

You sighed and fell back against the pillows as Charlie peppered your collarbone with kisses. You let out a huff as his lips moved towards the hollow of your neck. With you next breath, Charlie flipped himself on top of you, now truly caging you in his embrace.

“I promise I’ll make it worth your time, love,” he whispered before capturing your lips. You shut your eyes to feel him fully, the gentle pressure his mouth applied, the warm soft curve of his flesh and the sweet taste he gave you each time he moved against you. Somehow each kiss was still magic, no matter how many you shared or how frequently. Soul bound, you thought to yourself, two individuals each their own but made their best together. Charlie was it for you, and the fact that you thought you could just walk away even for such a noble cause as the one you did was laughable in moments like this.

“Scotland is a long trip,” you managed between breaths once Charlie pulled away.

Charlie’s face lit in the most beautiful smile he had ever sent your way. “We aren’t just going to Scotland, love,” he said as he ran a hand across your forehead to cup your jaw. “We’re going home.”

He kissed you once more, deep and passionate, like the thought itself consumed him with passion.

Home. Your home together. Ten years now, ten years of living apart, of sharing stolen weekends and holidays, all of which had to come to an end. Home. Your heart swelled at the word and at the thought of coming home to Charlie each and every day, of seeing his smiling face and eating the meal he prepared you, of kissing his lips each night as you drank your tea by the fire, of holding his hand and feeling his body against you as you slept, of being together the way you had always wanted to be.

You kissed him so deeply, putting all the love and passion you felt for him in your lips. You felt the tears rolling down your cheeks as Charlie’s hands hold your hips. His skin is softer than you had ever felt it, despite the scars and burns that still litter his hands and forearms. A week off work had indeed done a world of good for him.

A loud pounding on the door pulled you both from your embrace. You yelped and tightened the blankets around yourself. No one would stumble upon your cabin so deep in the Romanian wilderness randomly. But for some reason Charlie was smiling.

“Oy, Charles,” George called from the other side of the door, “You better be dressed in there because I am giving you ten seconds before I –”

“Oh no, you don’t!” Charlie yelled, jumping out of bed and pulling on his jeans in a stumbled walk towards the door. “I’ll distract them while you dress, yeah?” Charlie said you way before he opened the door and slipped outside.

“Them?” you said but Charlie was already outside with his brother. You shook yourself from your daze and popped out of bed, throwing on the only pair of jeans and shirt that still sat outside the trunks. But as you looked around at the luggage you had filled, you only now realized that you had never discussed how you were actually getting everything across the continent.

You shook your head. Those Weasleys.

Just as you were throwing on your socks, George entered, followed by Ginny. Charlie stood at the door shaking his head. The rest of the Weasley clan, including Fleur, Hermione, and Harry, came in, each taking a trunk as Molly commanded them. By the time you pulled on your shoes, the entire cottage was empty.

“Efficient family you got there,” you said to your husband as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder to lead you out to the portkey.

“Yep, we do,” Charlie said with a smile as he watched his family gather in the woods to help you journey back to the UK. “If only they’d help us unpack all this stuff in our new house in Hogsmeade, too.”

As you crunched through the leaves, Hermione turned to you as said, “Ready to leave this place behind, Y/N?”

Before you could answer, Ginny interrupted her with a giggle, “It’s Professor Weasley to you now, ‘Mione.”

Hermione smiled. “Finally someone competent to teach us Defense against the Dark Arts.”

“And family,” Ginny added. You were smiling at the praise, leaning even harder into Charlie’s arms, feeling the warmth of the family you shared, the family that loved you so, the family that was helping to bring you home.

As you all stood around the shovel that denoted the first leg of your journey, Charlie leaned down to give you a kiss, a simple peck upon your lips. You watched his eyes roam back to the cottage and with a sigh, he took your hand in his.

“You know, it’s okay to be sad,” you assured him. He simply ran his fingers across your knuckles. “This was your life for so long.”

“I know,’ he confirmed with a chuckle, “But you’re my life now. And soon those feisty Hebridean Blacks will be too.”

You found yourself laughing at the idea that Charlie was somehow excited to be working with something even bigger and more dangerous. He was worse than you sometimes, but Godric did you love this man, warts and all.

“To a new chapter?” he asked with a breath, breaking you from your thoughts as he reached for the portkey.

“To a new adventure,” you confirmed, grabbing at the portkey and watching the cabin, the woods, and the whole of the world you had known together, disappear in a swirl of color and chaos.

**Author's Note:**

> Co-posted on my tumblr (@ardentmuse), I'm so excited to share this journey with you!


End file.
